A Fairy Bad Mistake
by FoxoftheDesert
Summary: RedQueen Week 2017: AU after 6x10 "Wish You Were Here" Regina and Emma don't split up after they are accosted by Wish World Robin. Instead, they make their way toward sanctuary, away from the son who wants to kill one of his mothers, and to find a way home. On the journey they encounter an intriguing young lady who will change Regina's life, and Emma's too, forever.
1. A Fortuitous Introduction

**Author's Note** : Well, I'm back again with another novel length story for the final ever Red Queen Week. I'm sad about this awesome event ending, but also understand the reasons. That said, I hope everyone enjoys the amazing work that gets posted this week! And make sure to give thegirl20 lots of love for organizing this and the previous events as well.

For reference, the OC that shows up at the end of the chapter is physically based off of Poppy Drayton of Shannara Chronicles fame, thus the cover art. A larger image can be found on my imgur. I'd link it but is garbo at formatting. And the soundtrack to this entire fic is James Horner's astounding, "The New World," which can be listened to on Youtube or Spotify.

This will be my only Author's Note for this story, so I hope everyone enjoys! If anyone is interested in discussing things, all my work is available on Ao3. Link in my profile. Also, I want to give a huge thanks to my awesome beta, UnfairestOfThemAll, for keeping me on the straight and narrow! Last but not least, as always, if there are any glaring errors, report them to me via PM and I'll fix them up.

 **Standard Disclaime** r: The ain't mine, I'm just messin' with 'em. Don't sue me, please.

* * *

 **Chapter 1** \- A Fortuitous Introduction

A biting wind whips through Regina's hair, stinging the exposed flesh on her face. Heart heavy, she's lagging a step behind Emma as they trudge wearily in the direction of what used to be George's kingdom. Or it least it was in _their_ reality. The alterations encountered recovering Emma from the grips of the Jinn spell that created this false narrative has precluded the idea of predicting what else has changed in the wider world beyond the borders of the restored kingdom of White.

As it is, this area of the faux Misthaven is one she can only dimly recall catching a brief glimpse of during her intra-realm travels from a distance of some ten or more miles. Before today, she'd never set foot inside this particular forest. Sparsely populated as it is by giant evergreens and bristly underbrush that all look the same to her, maintaining orientation is difficult. To make matters worse, the little dirt path serpentining through the unfamiliar woods is barely wide enough for two to walk abreast, and the uneven footing is hell on her ankles and booted heels. Not an auspicious beginning to the journey by any means.

As they press forward in a westerly direction, the hope is to stumble upon a location she recognizes before they are in real trouble. It is nearing dusk, and already the temperature is dropping at an alarming rate, which doesn't bode well for a newly reawakened Savior still arrayed in the gaudy garb of a princess. Woefully augmented by a fur-lined cape, the getup will afford only scant protection from the cold. Being a displaced mayor in a winter coat isn't doing Regina any favors either, seeing as Maine does not suffer from such bitter cold as does the Enchanted Forest caught in the harsh throes of winter. If they get stranded out here, they will need to make a fire if they wish to avoid freezing to death overnight. The only problem with that is the illumination of the flames will render them susceptible to location. If her memory serves and is applicable in this unique quandary they've found themselves in, bandits litter nearly every corner of the interstitial forests forming a natural boundary between the two neighboring realms. Or, even worse, wolves. Or even worse than that, ogres.

The only other option is to magic them into warmer clothes and perhaps summon a sphere to shield them from the elements. But clothing, however thick, will only go so far when it is bound to drop well below freezing tonight, and maintaining a spell strong enough to form an artificial atmosphere around them would require more effort than they could afford to risk. One of them would have to expend their energies whilst the other slept only to then exchange places when reserves were nearly depleted, leaving both weakened by the time dawn offered a reprieve from the unforgiving elements. Such an extreme measure was inadvisable given that Regina had no idea what dangers tomorrow would bring. Seeing as how dreadful today has been to present, she isn't keen on depriving both herself and Emma of their only means of self-defense.

In the wake of being accosted and deprived of what little valuables she and Emma had on their persons by a version of Robin Hood not quite so much the noble thief as his real world counterpart, Regina had spent the better part of an hour lamenting her foolish bout of sentimentality. Rumple's bean had been expended for naught, all so she could extend a hasty invitation for a new beginning to a man who stated in no uncertain terms that he was quite happy with his current lot depriving nobles of their riches and keeping them all to himself. Watching Robin merrily strut away with their valuables was a cruel reminder that her happy ending was likely to never include finding lasting love. In a way, it was like losing him all over again, and if not for Emma, she may well have wallowed in her self-recrimination indefinitely.

* * *

" _Look, I know you're upset, but kicking yourself until your ass is red isn't gonna do us any good in a few hours," the Savior had told Regina, looking increasingly concerned by their dire circumstance. "We're out in the middle of nowhere with no food, no shelter, and no way home. For obvious reasons we can't go back to my parents' kingdom, but for the same reasons we need to get moving ASAP. It won't be long before an army clamoring for your head, and lead by our son, catches up to us. And since I wasn't the most studious princess, I have no idea where we are. I need you to pick a direction."_

 _Regina had stared at Emma as if the suggestion were patently absurd. "Me? I'm no cartographer, and even if I was, I didn't do much traveling off the beaten paths during my reign. This is your kingdom. You're telling me that none of the geographic lessons your mother undoubtedly forced you to endure stuck?" When Emma raised a golden brow and crossed her arms mulishly over her chest, she knew there was no point in further arguing over who was to assume the role of guide. It was the same look Emma got when she was sick of magic lessons and just wanted to go home and play X-Box. Regina imaged it was an expression with which Emma's tutors in this Wish Realm were well acquainted. "Alright. Fine," she sighed. "If I'm correct, George's kingdom lies to the west. Now, he's no friend of mine, but his lackeys will be less inclined to kill me on sight. I'd wager that to be our best bet."_

" _Works for me," said Emma with a nod. And with that, she used the setting sun to orient herself westward, then took off without bothering to wait for Regina, who scrambled after the Savior with as much dignity as she could muster._

 _They made it about a mile before Regina had enough of Emma grimacing every ten steps. She pulled up short and glared at her stubborn friend. "Oh, for heaven's sake. Why must you suffer needlessly? Just magic yourself into something more suitable for the road and be done with it."_

" _Because," Emma said as she paused to remove her slippers and rub at her abused heels, "if we stumble upon some honorable traveler along the way, I might can leverage who I am to get us a ride. I'm not the best at playing a damsel in distress, but I think I can manage well enough if I have to. I mean, I am a princess in this world. That has to count for something. Right?"_

 _Regina stared at her friend dubiously. Logically the explanation made sense, but in Regina's experience relying on the compassion of a passerby in the Enchanted Forest was a good way to get oneself relieved of their valuables...or worse, seeing as they had no valuables to be relieved of thanks to Robin. For Emma's sake, she didn't bother to voice these doubts when they would were certain to be dismissed out of hand; talking Emma out of anything when her mind was made up was an exercise in futility Regina was not eager to participate in._

" _Suit yourself. But I'll not hear any complaints in the morning when your heels are rubbed raw," she'd said, then stomped off down the path that disappeared all too soon into the shadows of a lugubrious looking forest._

" _Gee thanks. The sympathy is much appreciated," she heard Emma sass as the blonde hustled to catch up._

* * *

After that, they settled into a steady rhythm that didn't tax Emma's slipper-clad feet any further than necessary. Along the way they discussed rudimentary plans to escape the desolate hell-hole they'd wound up in thanks to the Evil Queen. Strategizing helped fill up the oppressive silence of the forest and calm Regina's nerves, but the frisson of apprehension that took up residence in her chest after the gnawing disappointment that was Robin Hood remained stubbornly active. Like a nuisance honey bee, it hummed steadily in the background as she and Emma exchanged ideas – some good enough to warrant consideration, but mostly pitiably lacking viability.

In the end, they settled on slogging through the forests until arriving at a main thoroughfare, over which they could reach a decently populated village in George's realm. There, lost in the throng of habitual activity, they could poke around without causing too much of a fuss. With any luck, someone might have heard tale of the location of a magic bean they could procure, and by any means necessary. Or failing that, they might hear tale of a sorcerer of some renown who could be of aid in their search. Perhaps someone might even know where this realm's version of Jefferson hung his gaudy magical hat. As far as Regina knew, the hat, a bean, and the Sorcerer's wand were the only ways to travel between worlds. They could not assume Zelena, the Apprentice, or Merlin existed here, and furthermore if they, were available or amenable to call upon for aid in transporting them either directly to Storybrooke or to Oz, from whence they could beseech the Council of Directions for help getting them home.

Unfortunately they will find themselves at an immediate disadvantage should a hat portal be their only recourse. There is every possibility that even should they locate Jefferson, the hat will not work, as Regina is still uncertain as to whether or not the Wish Realm is an actual realm. She has her suspicions, of course, that it is not, that it is merely some sort of magical projection or temporary reality of a similar vein as Isaac Heller's warped version of their lives in _Heroes & Villains_. Beans and the Sorcerer's wand are able to overcome such an obstacle as they are magically linked to the person using them, drawing from thoughts and memories to form a portal between locations, however disparate. But the hat is connected to a central hub containing many doors, each one belonging to a world physically present within their shared spacetime. Meaning if this world is not real, no door to their Storybrooke would reside within the hat hub of this one.

Regina reveals none of this out of a desire to avoid exacerbating Emma's guilt over their situation. For while it may have been Regina's fault the bean portal Rumple provided expired, it was Emma's unexpectedly granted wish that was ultimately responsible for their current predicament. Thus far the Savior has convincingly pretended to be unaffected by her moment of weakness entertaining doubts about her calling, doubts the Evil Queen so gleefully leveraged to rid herself of a formidable foe. But Regina knows Emma too well to fall for the stoic mask she's put on. The self-recrimination underneath is well concealed, but it peaks out just enough for her to recognize. Everyone else might miss it, but Regina knows it because she sees it often enough when she studies her own reflection.

With their plan of action decided, they passed the time chattering about various things, but the main subject is the one that will forever bind them together: their son. Regina was especially interested in Emma's perspective as to how Henry is currently doing in school, and to probe the blonde for insight into his innocent relationship with Violet. Talking about Henry helped to ease the pain of separation for both women, and sharing stories about him made the interminable miles plodding through a seemingly unending forest at least somewhat tolerable.

An hour came and went on the journey to get to the present, and another slips by before they give up altogether on finding civilization. It will soon be too dark to press on any further. The need for a spot to hunker down is growing imminent, so they search for a suitable area to provide a modicum of concealment from whatever creatures lurk in the darkness.

After finding a dense patch of trees, they settle in the center and then quickly make a fire to warm themselves. Both are shivering from the cold, so they huddle together as the night falls around them in earnest. And with the wind having died down, the only sound outside of the crackling of the fire is the gentle rustling of foliage from the canopy above. In the eerie hush of the evening forest, it is a haunting melody that sends chills up Regina's spine. Neither of them speak for the longest time, immersed in both watching out and listening in for potential threats as well as they can through the inky blackness.

"Hey," Emma calls out, breaking the unbearably heavy silence that has filled the tiny space between their huddled up bodies.

Regina glances over to find her friend's face cast in the gentle orange glow of the fire, and painted with a vibrant sympathy that makes her feel even worse. She'd hoped Emma wouldn't notice her carefully modulated brooding over Robin and how she'd committed the cardinal sin of daring to believe the universe, for once, might cut her a break. Her tragic bout of blind optimism was slapped down with such terrific force that her head was still spinning. She should really know better by now than to expect anything else.

"It's okay," Emma goes on with that soft, almost whispered inflection of hers that only grates on Regina's nerves when it doesn't. Like now, when Emma is all big, earnest eyes and liberally bleeding heart. "You didn't do anything wrong. I get it. If that had been Neal..."

When Emma trails off, Regina swallows heavily. "While I'm grateful for your understanding, it's not the same."

"Isn't it?"

Regina frowns deeply. "No, Emma, it's not. You wouldn't have gotten distracted as I did. You wouldn't have hesitated to do what was necessary to get back home to our real lives and families...to our very real son. I let my weakness rule me, and now we're paying the price for it."

"Love is not weakness, Regina. It's strength," says Emma, sounding so sure that Regina wants to believe.

She's been told that so many times these past few years that she had started to believe it. Then Robin died, shattering her heart into a million pieces she was still scrambling unsuccessfully to recover. Devastated and enraged, she found herself tempted, almost beyond her ability to resist, to forego putting her heart back together in lieu of reassembling the impenetrable armor her mother had once callously beaten and stuffed her into. Her friends refused to give up on her, though, so she remained miserable but otherwise emotionally intact. And Regina isn't entirely sure that's a good thing at the moment.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I would have chosen differently," Emma goes on, "but that doesn't make yours any less legitimate. You got put into an impossible position, so stop beating yourself up over it. Not only is it pointless because, as I said, you didn't do anything wrong, but it's unproductive. Stewing on guilt won't get either of us home any quicker."

"Sage advice. I'd take it to heart if I were you."

The airy, feminine voice which states that originates from somewhere in the shadows just beyond their little island within a sea of trees. Regina rockets to her feet, as does Emma, and both have their hands up, magic at the ready to defend themselves.

"Who said that?" Emma says, more demand than inquiry.

"I did," says the voice, and Regina can hear the hints of amusement in it.

Anger mixed with frustration over the situation pulses through her veins. She prepares to cast either a protection spell or a fireball, but refrains for a moment in the hopes this little standoff can be resolved without bloodshed.

"Who the hell are you?" she says, eyes vainly searching for the hints of clothing or skin or anything with which to identify the mystery woman.

"The better question is: who are _you_? And what are you doing in the Queen's forest?"

Unable to help herself and knowing the intruder can see them due to the fire, Regina adopts her most condescending smirk. "That's two questions, dear."

"Not helping, Regina," Emma says, then roughly brushes past her toward the origin of the voice. She holds up her hands to indicate she is not a threat. "Hi...whoever you are. We wish you no harm. We're merely peaceful travelers who hail from the White Kingdom. As you can see, we got a little bit lost on our way to the Royal Palace to seek an audience with King George."

"That would be an understatement and also a futile endeavor," says the young woman. "George has not ruled this realm in many years. My other question, however, remains unanswered."

While the information about George is of interest, Regina growls impatiently at the girl's deliberately obtuse response. "Assuming you have eyes, it's clear that we're not a threat. Neither of us are armed or dressed for combat. So why don't you show yourself? Maybe then we'll trust your intentions enough to tell you who we are."

The woman makes a sound of discontent, and a tense moment passes before the brush is being pushed away to reveal a tall, slender figure encased in supple, ornate looking black leathers. A mass of raven curls spill down her back and frame around a pretty face that steals Regina's breath away. There is something so familiar about her, the cut of her cheeks, her light olive complexion, the way she holds herself so proudly… Were it not for the fact that the young woman – who appears in her early to mid twenties – stands at least a good five feet eight inches and has eyes the color of evergreen needles, she might have thought her a relative. The differences, slight as they are, do not erase the uncanny likeness, and that, along with an eerie feeling in the pit of her stomach, has another possibility flashing through Regina's mind.

She is reminded of learning that her Wish Realm counterpart was banished by Snow and Charming instead of having her head removed from her neck as she probably – _surely_ – deserved. Some small ember of hope still surviving inside lights up at the possibility that her alternate had, against all odds, survived the exile and then managed to scrape together a life for herself that included a family. It seems too far a stretch to seriously consider, but...could this young lady be her daughter? The likelihood is so infinitesimally small that the idea seems patently absurd.

And yet a strangely driven curiosity propels to shoulder her way around Emma and toward the young woman who has, it seems, captivated her by merely existing. The girl makes no move of alarm at Regina's advance, nor does her neutral if not cautious expression falter in the slightest as Regina approaches. Or at least until Regina is up close. Then her eyes widen with recognition and she falters back a step.

" _Mother_?" the girl breathes, confirming that Regina's impossible deduction wasn't so impossible after all, sending her heart into a fluttery tailspin. "What? I don't...I don't understand…" The young lady pauses, openly perplexed, and starts to reach for Regina as if on instinct. But then she realizes what she's doing, thinks better of it, and lets her hands flop useless to her side. "You're younger," she says after a tense moment of uncertainty, and then the questions come in a flurry. "What's happened? Did someone do this to you? Are you okay? And why are you out here with this woman?"

Vision whitening at the edges as shock grips her brain, Regina worries that she might faint. Thankfully Emma places a reinforcing hand to the small of her back, or else she would have. Which would have been terribly embarrassing. She takes a deep, fortifying breath to reclaim her composure.

"I'm not your mother, unfortunately," she says, meaning the last part so much that it hurts.

Learning she has a flesh and blood daughter here, and against all rationality she knows in her gut that this girl is hers biologically, is far more confusing and amazing and agonizing than seeing Robin again only to watch him walk away as if she mattered nothing to him. Which to be fair, she _did_ mean nothing to him. But however much she loved Robin, however much she yearns for him still, the idea that in this Wish Realm she had fallen in love, conceived a child, and gave birth to such a gorgeous creature is nearly too much to bear. Even with Emma's unwavering support, the fringes of her mind that are currently holding by a tenuous thread are starting to fray.

"But you look and smell exactly like her!" the girl says, which astonishes Regina for the second time in nearly as many seconds.

 _This young woman recognized me by smell alone?_ She thinks, and her mind swims with possibilities she does not dare voice.

"And yet I'm not," she says instead, trying to keep her tone even and failing pretty spectacularly.

Brilliant green eyes narrow with suspicion. "Then who are you? Why are you here? Are you a spy meant to infiltrate the court and harm my parents?"

Regina holds her hands up in an attempt to disarm the tension. "No. It isn't any such thing. I swear to you on my father's memory. If you _are_ my daughter as you say, you'll know that means I'm telling the truth."

The girl crosses her arms over her chest and glowers. The pursing of her lips tugs another string of Regina's memory that she can't quite follow to the source. Does she know the girl's father? If so, who could it be?

"Say I believe that," the dark-haired young lady says before the possibility of identifying the individual half-responsible for her existence can do much more than start to ferment in Regina's mind. "Explain why you look the same as my mother did when I was a child."

"Because I am her. Just not... _exactly._ " The flailing explanation makes about as much sense to Regina as it does to her interrogator, whose perfectly arched brows scrunch together in confusion.

"I don't understand."

"We're from another world," Emma says, interjecting to rescue Regina from a disconcerting incident of foot-in-mouth disease. "One that is a little bit different from this one but with all of the same people. Sort of like a parallel universe, if you've heard of that sort of thing." The girl shakes her head negatively. "Okay, then. For the sake of simplicity, let's just say that very powerful magic brought us here from our world, and we kinda got stuck, so we're searching for a way back home. Can you help us?"

"Sadly I cannot," the girl says, appearing truly apologetic. "But...my mother is the most powerful sorceress in all the Realms. If anyone can lend you aid, it would be her."

When Regina catches Emma's eyes, boring into hers, they are silently inquiring, ' _Can we trust your other self to help us?_ '

Her relationship with this familiar stranger aside, Regina laments putting them into a position where they must rely on a version of herself far more likely to greet them with open hostility than accommodation. But what choice do they have, stranded as they are in the middle of nowhere and without a ready means to get back to Storybrooke? Untrustworthy as she'd been as Queen, she was not an unreasonable woman on topics outside of a certain outlaw princess. And if anyone can be persuaded to help her, it should be...well, _her_. She shoots back a gaze that hopefully conveys the answer. Emma nods her acceptance, and so Regina says, "Then by all means, take us to her."

She is not at all expecting it when the girl – whom she is just starting to consider may really be her _daughter_ – waves a hand and summons magic that smells and tastes and feels just like her own. Before a noise of surprise can even escape her throat, they are being teleported away. Regina's last thought is identical to Emma's instant exclamation upon reconstitution: " _Holy shit!_ "


	2. Red With Envy

**Note** : I lied. There is something else I need to point out. In my version of the Wish World, Snow and David retook her family estate and refurbished it after Regina's banishment, as is somewhat explained here. Therefore, the scene where Regina shows up as the EQ at Henry's knighting takes place in that castle, not the Royal Castle as I think is depicted on the show. It just made no sense to me that Snow would fight so long to overthrow Regina only to abandon her ancestral lands once they were hers for the taking.

Also, if this chapter is sloppy, please forgive me. My brain is in a fog right now.

* * *

 **Chapter 2 –** Red With Envy

The throne room of the Royal Castle presents a stark contrast to its counterpart in the Dark Palace Regina had once occupied. Whereas the latter was a structural and decorative representation of the evil corrupting the heart of its owner, characterized by sharp lines, cold steel, onyx stones, black velvet cloths, and ebonwood furniture, the former is a gleaming temple of heroic royalty. So majestic and extravagant is it that it outstrips even the Wish World Snow's intricate overhaul of the abode Regina had painstakingly infused with dark magic during the interim years between Snow's eighteenth birthday and the casting of the Dark Curse. Rich curtains of a violet satin are draped over grand stained glass windows of peerless beauty, and a matching carpet that spans the length of the room from massive double doors to a hemispherical dais is gilded with golden thread. Upon the dais sit two ornate thrones, carved of swirling marble with plush pillows attached that look soft as billowy clouds. The tapering arms are decorated with golden crests that appear at a glance to be an amalgamation of her father's coat-of-arms and some other unfamiliar design: a howling wolf set inside a low-hanging full moon.

"Beautiful isn't it?" the girl, as yet unnamed, comments upon seeing Regina and Emma's awestruck survey of the room. "It was renovated nearly five years ago to celebrate the twentieth year of my parents' reign. A surprise gift from a grateful nation to the couple who rescued them from poverty and tyranny, and who brought justice and prosperity to every corner of the realm. I've rarely ever seen Mother as touched as she was at the grand reveal."

This information comes as a welcome relief to Regina's strained nerves. Fretting over the confrontation with her counterpart seems foolish now. From all appearances, the woman who rules from this place is not the same as once terrorized the White Kingdom, but a ruler her father would be proud of – if what her alternate's daughter said is true at any rate. The thought warms her from crown to heel. Just as Daddy believed, right up til the end, she was capable, all on her own, of rising above her hatred to rediscover her goodness, and in so doing transform from a tyrannical maniac into a fair ruler whose subjects respected enough, if not outright loved, to bestow such lavish and beautiful decorations upon. Standing within the magnificent shrine to a success she wishes she could claim as her own, along with the mere presence of the energetic young lady speaking of her with such a reverent glow, has provided definitive, irrefutable proof that she didn't need three decades of stasis within the Curse or to earn Snow's forgiveness to become a better person. This version of herself had done it, was obviously adored by her daughter and revered by her people, and it shames Regina to think she'd so spectacularly failed in that regard.

But there is no time to bemoan her tragic if not well-earned lot when there are other, more important things to consider. Things that have her jumping to awful conclusions. Such as why she'd not immediately detected her supposed daughter's incredibly powerful magic.

"Your magic," she says, anxiously grasping a surprisingly muscular arm. Her concern is that her counterpart has done to her child what Rumple did to her. Learning to conceal dark magic from other practitioners is one of the first tricks the imp taught her to avoid alerting the court magicians, who would have reported her to the king, who likely would have swiftly put her to the torch. "I didn't sense it at all," she adds, dreading the possibility that this version of her had sunk so low as to corrupt her own child. "It's as if it was hidden from me. Why is that?"

"Probably because I'm also a Child of the Moon," the girl says, ducking her head to conceal a humble if not becoming blush. "Mother says that makes me hard to read even for the most powerful sorcerers."

"You're a sorceress _and_ a werewolf?" Regina's mother had always insisted that repeating something immediately after it was spoken was a sign of low intelligence, but she's far too dumbstruck to care. The crests upon the dual thrones suddenly make perfect sense. "I'm assuming you take the latter after your father."

The girl's eyes dance with secretive humor. "You could say that. Mother was turned, but only after she gave birth to me. By the way, I'm Mireya. Just in case you were wondering."

Regina can't say she had been since she was struggling to wrap her brain around the idea of her voluntarily becoming a werewolf. And still having a hard time reconciling herself to the idea of birthing a child when she was barren – a magical daughter at that. Drinking the cursed potion that destroyed her reproductive capabilities had seemed a necessary evil at the time, and no great sacrifice since she'd buried her desire to reproduce along with Daniel. She has regretted that decision since, and more than she would ever care to admit. Knowing, then, that her _other_ self had somehow overcome so great an impediment has her curious if her regrets weren't for naught, and that there was still a possibility for her to conceive.

" _The girl's name means 'miracle' in the tongue of my father's people_ ," she muses to herself, " _so perhaps there is a cure for the curse I've yet to think of. And perhaps my other self might be persuaded to share it..._ " That she has no one with whom to conceive doesn't enter into the equation.

"It's nice to meet you, Mireya," Emma says as Regina stares, conflicted into paralysis. A surprisingly acute wish to hold her daughter for the first time is held in check by an equally dominant fear. Were she to indulge herself in such an embrace, she'd never want to let go, and that, along with a painstakingly programmed need to maintain decorum around royalty which is precisely what Mireya is, trumps the desires of her heart. "So you're Regina's kid, huh?" Emma goes on, ignorant to Regina's internal struggle. "What's she like here? You know, for reference."

Mireya's smile is toothy and blinding, and it tickles something in the back of Regina's mind that she feels she ought to recognize. Hints of the color red flash across her visual memory, but she is unable to make any meaningful connection. She doesn't know it yet, but she'll feel like a fool soon enough...

"I am," says Mireya, effusive with enthusiasm for the subject, "and she is everything you might imagine of the greatest Queen to ever live."

Regina hums warily, but is careful not to let her doubt bleed through her fragile composure. "Lofty praise considering I once was a Queen also, and was far from deserving such commendation."

"Mother wasn't always a good ruler, either. She was once sovereign of the White Kingdom before she was deposed and exiled," says Mireya, not at all ashamed of a past that has, for Regina, been all but confirmed as shared with her alternate self. Or at least up until her defeat at the hands of Snow White and Prince Charming.

Regina marvels at the difference between Mireya's eager acceptance of her mother's dark past and Henry's of his. As before with the girl's magic, she briefly considers whether her doppelganger may have raised her daughter to actually be _proud_ of the darkness. But the way Mireya holds herself with such grace and innocence and kindness speaks against that unthinkable scenario. Somehow, she knows that in this world, rather than repeat the mistakes her mother made, she had taken the high road by owning her sins rather than attempting to suppress them, and in so doing, fostered a strength and determination within her child to choose a better path. She contemplates then, with no negligible heaping of cynicism, if she might have found that kind of courage had things worked out differently for her in the real world.

"We know," Emma says, taking up for Regina who is far too preoccupied studying Mireya to answer. "We're sort of from there in a roundabout sense. I was under the impression that someone else ruled this kingdom after my moth...I mean, after Snow White abdicated to return to her ancestral land."

"That would be correct," Mireya said. "One of Queen Snow's closest allies, a noble knight named Lancelot, governed in her stead until my mother took the throne. To avoid unnecessary conflict, Mother _convinced_ Lancelot to enter her employ as ambassador to the White Kingdom, and then empowered him to represent her affairs there. It was an arrangement Queen Snow was more than happy to accept so long as she was left alone. Mother agreed, and thus began the long détente that exists to this day."

There was one phrase in that explanation Regina finds especially fascinating. She eyes Mireya shrewdly. "You say your mother _took_ the throne. Knowing me, I assume she did so by force?" The girl nods confirmation that this is, indeed, the method her alternate employed to become a Queen once more. She has more questions. "How did she manage that all by herself? Banishment aside, I happen to know for a fact she wouldn't have many allies upon which to call."

"You're right," Mireya says matter-of-factly. "After her exile, my mother was alone, and wandered the lands for some time, struggling to find a place for herself. Her magic had been bound with a curse crafted by the Dark One, and she had no wealth with which to bargain for lodging or nourishment. No reasonable person would extend a hand to help her for fear of reprisal, and her many enemies hunted her so relentlessly that she was nearly always on the move. The only reason she lasted as long as she did was due to the rudimentary survival skills her father had taught her in her youth. But that wasn't enough to sustain her when winter descended upon the land. Within weeks after the first snow, she had nearly wasted away from hunger and exposure. It was quite by fortuitous accident that she stumbled upon the quaint lodgings of a kind werewolf who took her in and patiently nursed her back to health."

Now Regina was fully invested in the story. She burned to know what man she had met to so turn her life around for the better. With Robin ruled out, the possibilities were endless, and she couldn't even begin to imagine who it might be.

Curiosity abounding, she asks, "Is that where she met your father?"

"As a matter of fact it is," someone else says with a voice that, while a bit lower and rougher with age, is one she hears every single time she opens her own mouth.

Regina and Emma turn as one to watch a gracefully aging monarch striding up the aisle. Resplendent in a crimson gown more elegant and regale than any Regina had ever worn as the Evil Queen, her alternate self exudes an honest confidence and a deeply rooted contentment that she has yearned for all of her life. Once dark hair is littered with streaks of silver, and although her face carries her years, it does so with grace; her famous beauty is still largely intact. Somehow she has retained her complexion save a few laugh lines at the corners of her mouth and eyes that accentuate an internal light than cannot be wholly smothered and which makes her even more beautiful, which is a strange thought in and of itself. After all, how often does one get to objectively complement one's own attractiveness without the stain of bias to poison the judgment.

Impressed as she is, jealousy flares up in her chest and sours her stomach. She wants to be this woman, this happier version of herself, so keenly that she imagines this is how Zelena felt the first time she turned green. On reflex, Regina risks a glance at her hands, and is relieved to find them unpainted by her visceral, roiling resentment.

"Mother!" Mireya immediately ducks her head in deference upon catching sight of the Queen, but rather than fear, the gesture is clearly made out of love and respect. Regina feels her envy for her alternate deepen to unbearably petty levels. "These travelers were lost in the forests on the eastern border with the White Kingdom. I brought them here to meet you."

"Is that so?" says the Queen, lips turned up amiably. Her eyes, though, are inscrutable. Softened by happiness as she is, the woman still has some jagged edges.

 _At least we have that in common_ , Regina thinks, still feeling bitter.

"Yes, mother," says Mireya, who is now beaming with an excitement she seems hardly able to contain within her tall, lithe frame. "Oh, and they are from another world! Can you believe it?"

Her other self smirks. "I actually can seeing as one of them is _me_."

Mireya deflates a little at the gentle correction. "Oh. That's right. How thoughtless of me. I'm sorry, mother."

By now the Queen is close enough to grasp her daughters cheeks between her bare hands. She raises up to place a reverent kiss upon Mireya's brow, then smooths her fingers through her daughter's lustrous strands of raven hair. Mireya leans into the touch in the manner of a puppy being scratched behind the ear, and Regina is pretty sure she is every bit as besotted at the utter _adorableness_ of the expression as the Queen.

"That's quite alright, sweetheart," says the Queen, still smiling as she moves away a step. She then takes Mireya's hand. "I can forgive the oversight seeing as how unusual a circumstance this is. It's not every day you get to meet your mother's younger self."

The soft tone the Queen utilizes with Mireya sounds unlike anything Regina ever adopted when she occupied the same position. Even on the good days, she'd only barely kept a neutral tone with Snow. But it almost perfectly mirrors the one she'd used when Henry was a boy, and that tugs at her heartstrings because even though she was already convinced Mireya is her daughter, in a form, having it confirmed by her Wish World self makes it all the more real. This remarkably beautiful, exquisite young lady is _hers_ and yet at the same time _isn't_ , which confounds Regina's rational sense to the point she can hardly formulate any kind of coherent words or cogent thoughts.

"You aren't even a little suspicious about our identities?" Emma asks. Regina gives the blonde a look of gratitude because she is too overwhelmed right now to express her own wariness regarding the Queen's easy acceptance of their stories.

The Queen frowns at Emma's bald skepticism, injecting a graveness to the conversation that has been thus far lacking. "Of course not! I should know my own face and recognize the signature of my own magic. She," she points at Regina, "is _undeniably_ me. What has me suspicious is her apparent youth in addition to what mysterious motives have brought her to my kingdom in the first place."

It is unwise and she knows it, but Regina's jealousy spills out of her before she can stop it. "And _I'm_ curious about how you were able to conceive a child when we both know it should be impossible thanks to the curse I'm sure we both swallowed!"

The Queen tilts her head just so, the way Regina does when she's amused rather than enraged by a baseless accusation. "I find that hard to believe. As powerful and educated as we are in the arts, I would have thought you would be aware there is one thing that can break any curse."

Regina scoffs audibly at that. Since she is speaking to herself, there is no need to mince words or obfuscate feelings. " _True Love?_ You're telling me that True Love broke the curse upon your womb? I don't see how. I just saw Robin Hood, and he had no idea who I was. How could he have broken your curse when you've never even met him?"

The older Regina laughs, deep and loud, clutching at her belly as if the mention of Robin was so hilarious she was fit to burst asunder at the seams. "That two-bit thief?" she says after recovering her composure. "You think that _he_ is your True Love? Oh, that's rich!"

Regina huffs as she defensively crosses her arms over her chest. It offends her memory of Robin that her alternate self is so blithely dismissive of him. "Why wouldn't I? Tinker Bell's fairy dust lead me right to him long before I ever let myself believe I could ever find love again. But I did, with him, just like she said I would!"

The Queen laughs again, this time even harder. Vicious anger coils up in Regina at being mocked, and she almost loses her cool before Emma's hand on her forearm reminds her of their circumstances. However much she wants to throttle her elder self, they may very well require her assistance to get home.

Still, annoyed as she is, she cannot refrain from dishing out some sort of snide comment. "What's so damn funny about that?"

"What's _not_ funny about that?" the Queen retorts rhetorically as she wipes tears away from where she's laughed so hard. "For one, that any version of me fell in love with a scruffy, pine-scented miscreant of such ill repute is difficult enough to fathom. But that you actually trust the spell cast by _Tinker Bell_ is simply too much! How could you be so obscenely oblivious?"

"What on earth are you talking about? Why wouldn't I trust what Tinker Bell said? She was trying to help me!" Regina hadn't meant to sound like a petulant child, and that she did is fairly humiliating, especially since she has an audience.

But the question sobers up the Queen right quick, and the older woman, now markedly perturbed, reddens as she spits out thunderously, "Help you? _Help you?!_ That nit-witted failure of a fairy couldn't help a camel locate a dune in the desert! And you actually believe she was competent enough to cast the most difficult location spell of all? Honestly, I'm surprised she didn't guide us to a moon-eyed, speckle-coated heifer the way she blundered it like the truly useless neophyte she was. By the gods! Until I enlightened her years later – _years! –_ she didn't even realize she had cast it on herself instead of me!"

The assertion is a shot across the bow of Regina's very soul. Her entire perspective shifts and she finds her feet suddenly unsteady as if the ground is no longer solid beneath her. Everything she thought she knew starts to unravel before her eyes and she is helpless to stop the domino effect now that it's been started.

Unwilling to relinquish something she still holds so precious in her memory, Regina scrambles to find purchase for her denial. "What?! That's impossible!"

She half expects a tirade of epic proportions to be incoming forthwith, but is shocked to see that the Queen's visage has gone soft with sympathy. "Is it really?" the elegantly aged woman says. "Ask yourself this: if Robin Hood was indeed your True Love, why did you remain barren after finally consummating your relationship? Because I assure you, once free of my curse thanks to my beloved, I had no trouble conceiving when the opportunity to do so presented itself."

Regina splutters angrily, but can come up with no good response, which only serves to deepen the Queen's compassionate expression.

"Well, obviously you are still ignorant of reality, but if you're willing to indulge me, I'll you a story. I wager some of it will even sound familiar. And it will, perhaps, explain this...conundrum...to your satisfaction."

The Queen speaks as she maneuvers around Regina and Emma to ascends the dais, tugging Mireya along by the hand, to take her place upon the throne. Instead of sitting in the slightly smaller throne to the right as Regina expects, Mireya hovers on the left, still clutching her mother's hand with a sweet smile.

"Once upon a time, there was a bitter, angry, lonely woman," the Queen says, her request for an indulgence apparently rhetorical. With her focus now firmly back on Regina and Emma, she launches into her monologue, "The woman's sad state was due to her having just lost her betrothed and then being gifted like so much chattel to a king she hated before her love's body was even cold. One day while wallowing in her abject despair and misery, a hapless if not well-intentioned fairy rescued her from an accidental fall that would have resulted in her death. The fairy had seen this woman's pain and hoped to ameliorate it by helping her find True Love once again. But the woman still yearned for the stable boy so cruelly taken away from her, so she rejected the fairy's insistence that a man with a Lion Tattoo could have replaced him.

"Years passed. The woman's anger grew along with her discontent until she could stand it no longer. She had the king murdered, thus securing her a kingdom and power with which to extract her vengeance upon the insufferable brat she held responsible for her every torment. She waited until the girl was of age so that she would be fair game...for the sake of conscience, of course. Only when that day arrived, everything went horribly wrong. The princess she hated not only survived a life on the run but thrived, met her own True Love, and took this very kingdom I now occupy before turning her attention to reclaiming her beloved homeland. In a protracted war that cost many innocent lives, the wretchedly broken Queen was defeated, publicly humiliated, her power stripped away from her, and was then banished forever on pain of death.

"I believe this is where Mireya mentioned the haggard, half-dead exile was taken in by a certain werewolf. They spent months together at the ramshackle cabin the generous soul had personally constructed, mostly out of necessity as winter had arrived and it was too cold for the woman to seek shelter elsewhere. During that time, something truly astonishing happened. The ice that once blanketed the deposed Queen's heart began to melt under heartfelt smiles that stirred her emotions, almost infinite patience that taught her the true meaning and value of compassion, and tender touches that once would have enraged her but were now welcome tethers to an existence that was suddenly becoming tolerable. Before she even knew it had happened, she was in love, and lo and behold that love was miraculously reciprocated. Blanketed in the glory of that newfound love, the couple spent a whole year together in that cabin, learning everything there was to know about one another.

"Eventually, though, the woman's ambition returned, and though she was happy for the first time in her life since the death of her stable boy, she craved the extravagant life of a sovereign to which she had become accustomed. She was, as it turned out, not quite so cured of her aspirations for power as she had thought during those heady early days of romance. But to her infinite amazement, her lover already knew this, and instead of rejecting her for her nature, declared an unconditional love and support that has yet to waver. No one had ever understood the bone-deep need for power that had been instilled in the woman until that marvelous day. You see, for the first time her life, she had found someone to love and accept her for who she was rather than who she _should_ or _could_ be. And that gave her the courage to at long last accept herself.

"As this kingdom was notably absent of a longstanding ruler, and since the bandit girl who once conquered it had abdicated in favor of the throne of her native land, the people were clamoring for a monarch to take the reins and lead them. Their regent was doing an admirable job, but he lacked the pedigree to assuage the nobles and the audacious strength the masses required to guide them in a singular purpose. The constant tension and instability brewing beneath the surface presented an opportunity the woman could not pass up.

"And so, together with her beloved werewolf, she set out to rehabilitate her reputation by tackling problems that all others lacked the wisdom or gumption to solve. In the process, she amassed a small cadre of loyalists who pledged their lives and their honor to her. With time and careful cultivation, her supporters grew numerous enough to march upon the Palace. The battle waged at the gates was one for the ages, if only for the heroics of the woman's lover, who alone wrought a devastation upon the regent's forces that is still discussed around campfires to this day. Two weeks after the regent surrendered, the woman was coronated, a rightful Queen once more, and by her side, her ever faithful werewolf. They married not six months later.

"But the newly discovered happily ever after was soon to be tested, for her banishment and subsequent reformation had not delivered the Queen of the many enemies she made. Years before, during a fit of rage at failing to secure her revenge due to one man abetting the fugitive girl she was hunting, she publicly executed him and the rest of his village in front of his wife and child. That child would grow up to become a witch of some minor skill and a talented bladeswoman who managed to infiltrate the castle and slip past the guards with a cursed knife meant to kill the Queen, and failing that, to forever lock her in a fiery purgatory with only the slightest scratch. But the Queen's consort being a werewolf with inhuman reflexes stepped in to take the blow and fell instantly to the dastardly enchantment placed upon the blade. Mad with grief, the Queen strangled the assassin to death with her bare hands and then wept over her beloved, destitute, on the verge of succumbing to total insanity...until one of their most stalwart friends, a lovely young lady from the far east with gifted mind for military strategy, suggested the impossible: True Love's kiss."

The Queen breaks the narrative then, gazing up at her daughter with such deep affection that Regina's stomach hurts to witness it.

"I hadn't expected the kiss to work," she says, and Mireya is wearing a fond expression that says she's heard this story many times. "I was told my True Love was a man with a Lion Tattoo. But my werewolf was neither tattooed nor a man."

As Emma's eyes comically bulge, Regina flushes in astonishment. She's never told anyone this particular secret. Mostly out of long-ingrained terror that her mother might find out. How could she ever admit to not exactly being straight to an intractably traditional, judgmental, heartless witch of a mother who would've likely either disowned her outright or, more likely, punished her until such perversions were either forgotten or suitably beaten into submission? So, to avoid her mother's creative methods of correction, she stuffed those fledgling feelings down and refused to let herself revisit them.

In retrospect, she can see that it wasn't just angst over her mother dictating her cowardly flight from her attraction to fellow members of the fairer sex. She'd also been driven by her own preconceptions of what was acceptable. Being a blue blood royal meant certain rules were placed upon her that she disapproved of, but the stigma against homosexuality wasn't one of them. As she'd entered womanhood, she'd been a vociferous proponent of further legislating away from what she'd considered little more than filthy degeneracy. To learn she was might be part of the minority she'd been so callously persecuting, even if only in her thoughts, was too much for her to bear on top of the strain of her mother's impossible expectations. When she became Queen and had the power to change things as she saw fit, she hadn't indulged in her proclivities, nor did she during the Curse, even though she'd privately fancied a certain woman both times. She had no mother to blame, no excuse to offer for her continued hypocrisy, other than she was simply still afraid to answer one simple question. If she was wrong about that, what else might she have been wrong about?

Yet, while it's certainly a shock to hear her True Love is a woman, and whereas she would have railed against such an accusation in the past, she's grown enough now, has become comfortable enough in her own skin, to at least admit she's open to the possibility. They are baby steps. But that's progress, isn't it?

"Still," the Queen says, ignoring their reactions, "I was desperate to save her, so desperate that I was willing to make a fool of myself should the attempt fail."

"But it didn't," says Mireya, giving her mother a watery smile. "It worked. You woke Mama up."

"Yes, I did," says the Queen with unabashed pride. "But even though I was relieved beyond imagining, the success of that kiss prompted me to seek answers for questions it unearthed. Why had the kiss worked when I was told in no uncertain terms my True Love was a man with a lion tattoo? Certainly Tinker Bell had made no mention of a female werewolf with green eyes and the most alluring smile I've ever seen. It took nearly a year, but I was finally able to locate the fraudulent fairy to extract my answer. Fittingly, she had lost her wings over her unwise interference in my life, and what's more, she had no idea why my kiss was able to wake the woman to whom I had _freely_ _chosen_ to give my heart. I was thus constrained to two options. I could forget about why the kiss worked and move on, or I could seek satisfaction elsewhere." She fixes her eyes on Regina then. "You ought to know better than anyone the former was unpalatable."

Regina nods. If what happened to her Wish Realm self happened to her, she would have torn apart the whole world for answers. "No doubt I would have done the same. Who did you consult, then? Rumple?"

"By the gods, no." The disgust on the Queen's face is unmistakable. _Another parallel between us_ , Regina thinks. "If I set eyes on that slimy bastard of an imp ever again, it'll be too soon. No, I sought the only person whose answer could be, without a doubt, taken as reliable simply considering she also is a fairy. The wisest of all fairies, to be exact: Rheul Ghorm."

Regina can hardly believe what she's just heard. Of all people, to consult Blue on such a delicate matter as her happily ever after seems absurd. "Blue? You consulted Blue about this? And took her answers at face value? She's no more trustworthy than Rumple in my estimation."

"I did just that," says the Queen, unperturbed by Regina's loathing of the Head Fairy, "and I do believe her help was given in good faith, if only because the information came with a price. In exchange for my agreement to leave Snow White alone for the remainder of her days, she recast the spell to locate my True Love, the one Tinker Bell so epically flubbed. Imagine my shock, relief, and irrepressible joy when it did not lead me to a man with a lion tattoo, but to my wife. This, of course, mystified Blue, who swore to investigate if only to quell both of our confusion. Come to find out, Tinker Bell had inadvertently been thinking of herself when she cast it that first time. The rest, as they say, is history."

Hardly able to fathom the repercussions of that information, Regina falters. Hand on her chest, she frantically searches for any sign of deception in her alternate self. When she finds only open honesty, she heaves a harsh breath and runs a shaky hand through her hair.

"I don't know what to say to that," she says, feeling weak in the knees all of the sudden. "Do you mean to tell me that Robin Hood's True Love is actually Tinker Bell instead of me?"

The Queen smiles with the forbearance of someone who has learned how to master their emotions. But there is a secret shining in her eyes that sets Regina's nerves ending to tingling and makes the hair on her neck stand up.

"That's exactly what I mean," says the Queen, and as she speaks, her eyes wander over Regina's shoulder. A tender smile spreads across her face at what she sees. "Our True Love is a Hood of a different name – a more... _colorful_ one." She makes a gesture toward her dress, but her eyes are fixed above Regina's shoulder, spellbound and sparkling with some indiscernible emotion that sends chills up her spine. "In fact, I often wear this particularly vibrant shade in honor of her."

"Oh, stop it! You know I hate it when you refer to that old nickname."

The voice that speaks those words belongs to a woman Regina knows personally, a woman she had once harbored secret desires for during the curse that she so woefully lacked the courage to act on. In a rush of realization, the pieces of the puzzle fall into place.

Frozen in place, she stares dumbly at the Queen, who returns an insufferable smirk when Emma swirls around and gasps.

"Ruby?"

With speaking of that name, Emma forever obliterates a narrow-minded viewpoint about True Love Regina has carefully cultivated since the incident with Tinker Bell. Heart in her throat, Regina turns to face her destiny, for the woman she'd once secretly harbored an interest in but was too cowardly to act upon, is the very same one her thirsting eyes drink in.

And just like that, with one glimpse, her world spins off axis, then goes careening into the nether from whence she isn't sure she it can ever be recovered.


	3. Future Faced, A Haunted Past

**Chapter 3 -** Future Faced, A Haunted Past

"My name is Red," says the stranger audaciously wearing Ruby's face. With eyes for no other than her Queen and her daughter, full lips painted a crimson shade matching her dress wrap around the syllables like the soft caress of a practiced lover. "But Ruby is very pretty. I wish my mother had picked that one instead of a primary color."

Mireya, who has noticed Red's arrival and is wiggling with ecstatic energy, rushes from her older mother's side. "Hi, Mama!" she says, toothy smile literally reflected in Red's as Mireya leaps into her arms. Red swings her around and around, and their joyous laughter reverberates through the cavernous room where it eventually collides into Regina's chest.

"Hi, my sweet angel," Red says after the spinning stops, eyes dancing, flush with an indescribably adoration for her daughter.

Regina is immediately mesmerized. To say that the Wish World's version of the Big Bad Wolf is a beautiful woman would be a criminally negligent understatement. No, that was a descriptor more appropriate for Ruby Lucas, who had been the most disgustingly gorgeous person in Storybrooke even when caked under layers of make-up and garbed in a uniform more resembling a woman plying the world's oldest profession than a rebellious a waitress in a sleepy town in Maine. Ruby was drop-dread gorgeous...hotter than hell, even. But Red is something altogether different, and it isn't entirely to do with the aura-like glow of a devoted mother gently emanating from her every pore.

Radiant would be fitting, Regina thinks as she stares shamelessly. Arrayed in a gown befitting her high station, Red's lithe figure is underscored by a sartorial selection that admirably complements the Queen's. Or royal might be suitable to summarize the way with Red's impressive mane of silky brown hair is tamed into an intricate, multi-tiered braid, arranged with such skill as only highly trained and talented court handmaidens can produce, that crowns her head and then plaits together at the back atop a mass of curls left free to fall halfway down her back. Unlike Ruby, Red stands tall and proud, every bit the Queen consort, all competence and confidence and unwavering loyalty to her family, which fans the flames of love plainly visible within the same green eyes belonging to Mireya. Whereas Ruby was all carnal magnetism, Red is a vision of splendor from heaven, and a glorious example of mortal perfection, demure and alluring in her femininity yet enhanced by a wildness originating from the wolf lurking just beneath the expanses of smooth ivory flesh left on display by the deep v-cut of her gown which plunges all the way down past her navel.

Regina is no stranger to appreciating the finer specimens of her own sex, only she's used to being able to harness her attraction so to tug it by the bridle and keep it in check. But with Red she is well on the way to drooling by the time she's caught staring.

When Red finally notices her, and thus notices _who_ she is, her eyes widen with shock. "What's the meaning of this?" she says, separating from her daughter to maneuvers protectively between Mireya and the woman wearing her wife's visage whom she evidently recognizes as a threat. Her intense gaze flickers between Regina and the Queen several times as if comparing the two. A beat later, her forehead furrows into deep creases. "What the hell is going on?"

The Queen gives her spouse a tight smile. Regina thinks her alter ego must be feeling uncomfortable at Red learning of this development without any lead in. "Nothing to be concerned about, my love," she says, tone and manner dismissive.

Red stiffens at the condescending deflection, hands defensively going to her hips. Mireya lingers at her shoulder, observing the interactions intently. "Nothing to be concerned about? Don't you dare patronize me right now, Regina. There are _two_ of you!"

"So there are," says the Queen, who then gestures nonchalantly toward Regina. "Darling, meet myself from another world."

"Another world?" Even if she hadn't spoken with such wariness, by body language alone, Red would have appeared noticeably dubious at the introduction. Regina can see the tension in her muscles, all coiled up, ready to spring. And she thinks, for just a split second, she sees a flash of yellow arc through those lovely green eyes.

The Queen gives Red a terse nod. "According to them, yes."

"And you believe them?"

"I do."

Rather than respond, Red hums with preliminary acceptance, and then approaches Regina with markedly less caution than fascination. Frustratingly enough, that the Queen had only to assert her belief once to convince Red of the claim reignites Regina's ugly and unsettling envy of the older version of herself. The woman seems to have everything Regina had ever wanted, and it grates on her nerves until they're bleeding raw and she's gritting her teeth against nascent rage. Red being so easily persuaded is an indicator of how healthy their marriage is, of how much trust there is between them for the Queen's word to be as good as concrete evidence in Red's eyes. That kind of relationship is what Regina used to daydream of but was unable to capture in the real world, not even with her own parents or Daniel, when fate always intervened to rob her of her happiness.

But in this Wish Realm she had carved one out with the most unlikely of people, a peasant girl who couldn't be more different personality-wise than her. Never in a million years could she have fathomed falling in love with Red Lucas, that loyal and trustworthy and kind and gentle soul who had once rejected an offer from Regina upon a cold mountain pass to stick by her outlaw friend. All of the traits Regina once loathed because she'd exhibited those same foolish traits in her innocent youth and paid the price for it are glaringly present in Red. Furthermore, as far as she knows, Red has never been an ambitious person, has never felt the lust for power that Regina had inauspiciously inherited from her mother, which means they have so little in common that she is confused and somewhat in awe that they seem so paradoxically compatible.

She hadn't missed how the two were able to hold an entire conversation with one another without even using words. It was the same infuriating thing Snow and David did, and the Queen and Red had done right in front of Regina's very eyes, inadvertently rubbing their connection in her face. That level of synchronicity speaks to a bond that exists far beyond the pale of simple romance. No, these two are bonded soul deep, and that pricks at Regina's long-held grudge against the world; even with Robin, she'd never felt anything so profound. Only Daniel had ever sparked such yearning in her, and look what happened to him!

"Wow. You...you really are Regina aren't you?" Red is so close now that Regina can make out the specks of muted gold within the sea of emerald strands, latent indicators of the ancient power she holds within her. The smell of that power is pungent and almost as intoxicating as Red's peculiar beauty, which is only enhanced at such proximity.

"Yes, I am," Regina says, managing to speak around the lump that's suddenly clogging up her throat. "And I can see that confuses you. So," she looks to the Queen, "in the interest of clarity, why don't we get to the point of this little visit?"

The Queen nods curtly. "A fine suggestion. Do get on with it."

To ease the rapid firing of her edgy nerve endings, Regina takes a step away from Red and toward her alternate self. "We need your help to get back home to our world. We had a magic bean, but when we used it to open a portal, we were...waylaid." Emma arches a golden brow toward Regina at the understated deflection. She flushes with indignation as she huffs, but goes on to clarity her statement nonetheless, if only to stave off any more interjections, wordless or otherwise, from Emma. "Or rather I got distracted, and the portal closed on us before we could make it through. It was an honest mistake."

"That is unfortunate," says the Queen, not even bothering to hide the insincerity of her sympathy or how delighted she is that their precarious predicament is all Regina's fault. "The bitter fruit of our errors are not easily digested. As amusing as your failure is, however, I don't see how am I supposed to help."

Regina scoffs, knowing that the Queen is being deliberately obtuse. "You could get us another bean, for one. Or direct us towards Jefferson the Hatter if he has returned to this world. Either option is viable."

For a moment the Queen stares at her through veiled eyes, as if weighing her options. She taps her chin thoughtfully. "Hmm. If I were to be inclined to lend my assistance, I can tell you right now I can't provide another bean. They are exceedingly rare. In fact, before your little...visit, I'd not heard of one being used in decades. The second, though..." She trails off, but the implication is unmistakable.

Hope flares within Regina's breast, dangerous and risky as ever. "So you know where Jefferson is."

"Of course I do." The Queen eyes her critically. "I can't speak for you, but I'm no fool. I keep track of all my enemies."

Regina ignores the slight in her desperation to get home. "Then tell us where he is!"

A sable brow raises at the brazen show of impertinence. "Why should I do that when I've no idea how I benefit from this arrangement?"

Emma wisely chooses that moment to remind everyone of her presence, lest Regina say something she can't take back. "I don't know...maybe for the satisfaction of doing the right thing?"

That amuses the Queen, who barks out a harsh laugh. "I'm a Queen, dear. I don't have that luxury."

Rather than object as Regina wants to, Emma's expression darkens with resolve. "How about information, then? I happen to know that the situation in the White Kingdom is about to turn chaotic. A ruler of your...strategic inclination...might take advantage of the coming instability to expand her borders."

"Emma!" To say the least, Regina is taken aback by the morally questionable gambit, and it shows in her response.

This realm may not be their home, but Regina can't imagine Emma has already so disconnected herself from it so as not to care about what happens here. False or not, the memories of a lifetime being raised by her parents in the kingdom of her birth are still present, just like those Regina had given her to help her settle into a life in New York with Henry. And while those were not her actual parents, the love they had given Emma was real, as was her feelings for them. Like any good princess, which Emma Swan was bound by nature to be, fidelity to her people would rank second only to that for her family. It is shocking then that she would so freely trade her people's safety, even if the justifiable end was to get them back to Storybrooke.

"It's okay, Regina," Emma says, tone brokering no argument. The Savior has made up her mind, meaning there will be no dissuading her from this potentially ruinous course of action. "I know it seems extreme, but it's a small price to pay to get back home. Whatever it takes, right?"

The rhetorical is a pointed remind to Regina of her earlier assessment of Emma's character. She ducks her head briefly, sucking in air so as to keep her calm. Little else annoys her more than having her own words thrown back at her. But she supposes she'd walked right in to it. And besides that, Emma is right. This isn't their home, however much it resembles it. Still, there is one factor that will need to be addressed, one that neither of them can avoid without being eaten alive with guilt.

"But what about Henry?" Regina notices in the peripheral that the Queen is watching their interaction with hawk-eyes, but ignores it in favor of reaching Emma.

"He's nearly grown now," Emma says, posture and tone equally confident. "He has plenty of support, and is smart enough to know when picking a fight would be inadvisable, such as when there is internal strife in the court. He'll be okay, Regina." Lest Regina argue, she cuts away her gaze to the monarch in whose hands their fate rests. "As for what I said, your Majesty, I can promise that with the right amount of persuasion, Prince Henry will cede the lands around Mount Traya and the Crystal Lake. It may even help to throw your support behind him in the coming struggle for power, though I highly doubt that will have any effect."

The Queen's interest perks. "What struggle for power?"

Emma's facade of indifference breaks at last. Her shoulders slump and her face pinches in pain. Regina feels the shift like a slap in the face because she knows she's responsible for it.

"The throne was vacated recently," Emma says, sounding a little bit broken. "The line of succession is clear, but with Princess Emma's disappearance," she casts her eyes around furtively at the mention of her name, a subconscious gesture Regina hopes doesn't get them caught, "and Prince Henry so young, the nobles are going to smell blood in the water, one in particular who has been a thorn in the Royal Family's side for some time now."

The Queen perks up at this news. "The throne was vacated you say? Did the King and Queen abdicate?"

"No. They...died." Emma ducks her head briefly to surreptitiously, and poorly at that, swipe at her watery eyes. A gesture that doesn't go unnoticed by anyone.

"What?!"

Red's cry is visceral, and Regina turns just in time to see fat tears spilling down the Queen consort's pale cheeks. Mireya hovers worriedly at her younger mother's side, propping Red up when her legs threaten to give way. A very different reaction than the Queen, who looks quite pleased with this development. Regina can't say she wouldn't have felt the same, so she declines mentioning the woman's callousness when it's not just Emma hurting because of Snow and David's passing, but her own wife.

But before Regina can bat at eye, the Queen is up out of her throne, her countenance totally transformed as she rushes to Red's side. Sliding her arms around her grief-stricken wife, she coos, "Oh, darling! I'm so sorry. I know how much you loved them."

"That's not the worst part," Emma then says to the Queen, and Regina feels her face heat up with panic and anger; she knows what comes next. "Prince Henry believes you did it."

"What possible reason would he have to think that? I had nothing to do with this outrageous crime..." With more dread than she can remember feeling in a long time, Regina witnesses the precise moment her counterpart puts one and one together to arrive at two.

"You!" Eyes hatefully glaring at Regina, she holds on to Red, who is still distraught over learning her closest friends are dead. "You did this, didn't you?"

Feeling rather like a deer in the headlights, Regina gapes, unable to formulate an adequate defense for her actions. To be honest, she hadn't really even given them a second thought busy as she was wrangling Emma out of her stupor, figuring out how to get them back home, and then encountering Robin at the bean portal. But now that she actually has to confront what she's done, she feels a bit sick at the stomach. Whether this realm was real or not, and however noble the motivation, she had murdered two people she loved in cold blood. The repercussions on her soul were bound to be ugly. Oh, sure, she could rightfully swear she had only the best intentions and could even explain her misdeeds as the requirement to survive in a world that was not her own, but weren't those the kinds of justifications she made to excuse her descent into madness all those years ago?

Realizing this makes her feel more like the Evil Queen than she has since the Curse went into effect, and the abject horror with which that sinks in renders her speechless. Oh, how quickly she had slipped back into that comfortable, old skin! The ostentatious dresses, the ornate hairdos, the elaborate fingernails and expensive jewelry...the absolute lack of concern for consequences as she fulfilled her every whim...it was all so enticing, so seductive, so easy to fall prey to when the darkness was ever present just an inch below the surface of her conscious mind. All of her heroic deeds and sacrifices had failed to bury that inclination for evil that lived inside of her, and that scared her witless, knowing she could fall from grace so precipitously as to not even notice her downward trajectory until she was pancaked on the sidewalk.

Apparently, though, the lack of response was an insult to the Queen, whose visage morphs into a twisted picture of barely restrained fury. Suddenly Regina is given a glimpse as to why people make a habit of avoiding her when she gets cross. It's not fun being on the other end of burning coal-black eyes, snarling lips, and a forehead with a pronounced vein visibly pulsing with rage. And when those smoldering eyes flash a menacing yellow, she's reminded the woman before her is not merely a supremely powerful witch, but a werewolf as well. For the first time in her adult life, Regina feels true fear when facing an opponent, for she knows with the utmost certainty that she cannot conceivably hope to defeat the Queen in open battle.

"I asked you a question," the furious woman growls, teeth looking sharper than they ought. "I shan't repeat myself again. So if you know what's good for you, you'll _answer me!_ "

Regina flinches at the vitriol with with that demand was spat. She screws up her courage, just the same. However scared she is, further silence may send her less heroically inclined self over the edge, and she can't allow that to happen when Emma, who is innocent in all of this mess, may end up as collateral damage. It's not Emma's fault Regina was so disgustingly foolish as to split herself into a light half and a dark one, nor is the Savior liable for their current predicament being stranded in a world she isn't sure actually exists. Emma had been prepared to jump through that bean portal, but Regina's Robin-induced stupefaction cost them their best chance to get home. So if anyone is going to shoulder the blame for the fiasco that was their present circumstance, it's going to be her and her alone.

"Yes, I did," she says, trying to sound unapologetic so as to project no weakness. Her alternate may have love in her life, but she well-recognized that anger for what it was, the very same murderous brand that she harbored within the abyssal recesses of her own heart. Even True Love that's been tested and proven, it seems, cannot irrevocably cure her of the darkness, and Regina isn't sure how to feel about that. "I felt I had no choice," she soldiers on, quartering her turbulent emotions. "It was the only way to break the spell my companion here was under." She gestures to Emma, who nods weakly in affirmation. "And I was right! It worked. She's awake, and I'm not sorry for that!"

The Queen is not the slightest bit satisfied with the explanation. "How could you be so thoughtless and _cruel_? You imbecile! You utterly unconscionable shrew! Do you realize what you've done? Not only have you broken my wife's heart, you may well have started a war!"

It's not been that long since the last brave soul spoke to Regina with such brazen disrespect. People have lost their fear of her since she turned over a new leaf. But that doesn't mean she doesn't take offense every single time, and this one is no exception.

Bristling, she draws herself up to her full height. "Watch your tongue, _your Majesty_. I may not wear a crown, but like you I am still a Queen capable of mustering up some of my old Evil."

The threat has little affect upon her royal counterpart. Clutching more tightly at a now-sniffling Red, who is cautiously observing the two Regina's size each other up, the Queen looks on the precipice of violence before Red intervenes by tucking in closer to sooth her irate wife with a tenderness incongruous to the grief she must be feeling.

At the same time, Emma's eyes flash a warning at Regina to holster the bravado, silently communicating the necessity for them to tread delicately lest they be stranded interminably in the Wish Realm. Emma is right, of course, but Regina's pride has been wounded and she is too incensed at the moment to attenuate her critically pressurized temper. The pressure cooker, as it were, is about lose structural integrity and go _boom_.

To her eternal surprise, Her Majesty backs down first. "Fine. Forgive my regrettably gauche outburst. But surely you can recognize the impossible position you've put me in."

Regina sighs, suddenly exhausted as the steam of her indignation abruptly evaporates. "More than anyone, I do understand your reaction. You have a right to be angry, and to be fair, I shouldn't have done what I did. At the time, I wasn't really thinking of the consequences. I let my single-minded determination to wake Emma obscure the fact that my actions were going to affect a lot of people. In my defense, though, I also believed this world wasn't..." she gestures uselessly, "well, real."

Regina has always been perceptive person, and her alter ego is no exception. "What do you mean by that?" asks the Queen. "And when you say Emma...do you mean..." She trails off to study Emma, eyes raking over the bouncing blonde curls, green eyes, high cheeks, and undeniable Snow White chin. " _No!_ I had thought your features looked familiar. _Princess_ _Emma_?"

"Yeah, that's me," Emma says demurely. Her discomfort at being referred to as royalty is adorable, but also comforting reassurance that Emma is one hundred percent Emma again.

The Queen's eyes sharpen, a hawk singling out her prey. "And here I thought she'd up and disappeared."

Emma blushes lightly, then shrugs. "It's a long story. To cut it short, remember when I said we were sent here by magic?" The Queen nods. "That magic made me into Princess Emma, which is why Regina didn't think this was real. And why I left when I...well, woke up for lack of a better term."

The Queen hums with rapt interest. "And what, pray tell, happened to the real one when you replaced her?"

Emma swallows heavily. "She's, uh, gone. Unfortunately. The spell kinda...erased her. She won't be coming back."

 _An impressively diplomatic response and a clever lie expertly wrapped into one neat package_ , Regina thinks. _Perhaps Emma is princess material after all._

Rather than appear flummoxed or angered as she'd been by the new regarding Snow and Charming, the Queen just looks fascinated by Emma's explanation. "Well, that is certainly an intriguing development. If what you say is true, there is indeed an opportunity here. I must confess to have been coveting those areas you mentioned for quite some time. And I can't deny I'm interested in the opportunity to snatch them up now that the White Kingdom is ripe for the picking."

"Regina!"

Red's protest is voluminous enough that her voice echoes through the throne room, which tells Regina that she has obviously maintained her relationship with the Charmings. It isn't all that surprising given all the trio went through together. Hell, Red had killed her own mother to save Snow's life. So to hear her spouse so callously plotting after their lands without regard for their demise has to be all kinds of wrong to a person with Red's moral compass.

But the Queen doesn't even flinch at her wife's forceful objection, which only seems to irritate Red more.

 _This is it_ , Regina thinks, _the moment of truth_. _At last I'll get to see how unbreakable their supposed True Love really is._

"What?" The Queen poses the question as if her plotting was perfectly innocent. When Red glares with unmasked disapproval and disappointment, she makes an exasperated noise of protest. "Oh, come now. I know you loved them and they you, but there was none whatsoever lost between them and me. Isn't that the reason Snow never once visited you here? Isn't that the reason you weren't allowed in their kingdom once you made your choice? Why you had to settle for the scant scraps of affection they tossed you? Why your infrequent meetings were always arranged somewhere in neutral territory where they felt _safe enough_ to spend any time with you? As much as I didn't want to see Snow and her mangy shepherd, their desire to avoid me was so acute they punished you for it! They never forgave you for choosing me! So, you can't honestly expect for me to lament their passing – nor should you for that matter, though I know better than to try and stop you. Still, I'm not sorry that I'll shed no tears over them, and you ought to know that by now.

"It is only out of respect for _your_ grief that I will attempt to negotiate concession of the land instead of taking it by force should young Henry formally accuse me of the crime. Of course, I'm quite positive he will do just that, and when that happens, an avenue will be made available with which to counter his accusations with one of my own. Negligently accusing a Queen of regicide is inadvisable even in the name of dispensing justice. What I'll need is proof of my innocence to ensure my claim is verified. Perhaps with that, we might avoid any unnecessary...hostilities. That's the best I can do, love. Take it or leave it."

To Regina's amazement, Red does not utter a single word of argument, or chastisement, or retributive anger. Instead, she heaves a sigh of longsuffering acceptance, then says, "You're right. I've always known how you feel about them. And even though I've never met their daughter," she glances mournfully at Emma, who flushes with shame over having never met her mother's best friend during the life this world provided her, "or grandson, I just can't imagine taking advantage of this terrible crime." Recriminating green eyes bore into Regina, who, unlike her elder opposite, averts her gaze for shame.

"Believe me, I don't relish it either," says the Queen, sparing Regina from response. It isn't an act of mercy so much as the Queen's attention is elsewhere. She's grateful all the same. "But pragmatism," her Majesty continues speaking to Red, "demands I not waste this chance to further the kingdom's interests. And not only for the sake of my own ambition but for the good of our people. Those lands are far more important to our economic prosperity than to the White Kingdom. George was a damned desperate fool to ever let Leopold swindle him out of them. Distasteful as it is, you understand why I must act on this information. Don't you?"

"I do," says Red, looking tired all the sudden. "I know you're not being mean, and I know you'll let me grieve however I need to. I trust you, I just...please, be gentle with the boy. _Please_. For my sake."

The Queen smiles tenderly and then gives Red an affectionate kiss. "I can do that, darling. Thank you. I promise I won't let you down. Have I ever?"

"No, you haven't."

"See there. All will be well." She reaches to rub soothingly at Red's back. "Now, why don't you let Mireya accompany you to the gardens. It'll do you good to get some fresh air and have a good cry without an audience. I know this is hard for you, so take all the time you need."

Red doesn't object, though Regina honestly hadn't expected her to. The statuesque woman is barely holding on, caught as she is between an inexpressible grief, confusion over her wife having a doppelganger, and the possibility of bloodshed hanging over all of their heads if the matter of Snow and Charming being assassinated isn't settled via negotiation. It's a lot to process. Regina's frankly surprised Red has the fortitude to hold it all in when she can sense how unsettled her energies are, which indicates her lupine side is not at all happy. It really is for the best, then, that Red agrees without making a fuss, lest the wolf tear free of her shackles and make an unwelcome appearance.

"Yeah, okay," Red says. "I think that's a good idea. I always feel better after a stroll in the garden." She straightens her back, ready to turn for the door, but stops to say one last thing. "I love you."

The Queen's strained expression of concern melts into an almost tangible adoration. "I love you, too, my heart." Smiling encouragingly, she gestures toward the enormous oak doors set into an archway that leads into and out of the throne room. "Now, let our daughter escort you and keep you company until I conclude this distasteful business. I'll join you both as soon as I'm able."

"C'mon, Mama," Mireya says as Red nods with tender gratitude. She replaces her elder mother's hand on the back of the younger then begins leading Red down the carpeted aisle. "While we're in the garden, I wanna show you the Frost Lilies I planted this summer. They're blooming in the winter just like Queen Elsa said they would!" Mireya chances a farewell wave to her mother as well as Regina and Emma about halfway toward the door, but otherwise her cheerfully incessant chatter continues unabated until she and Red make their exit. The door clangs shut heavily after them.

"Well, now that it's just us..." the Queen begins.

Regina cuts her off short. She isn't ignorant to the calculating expression that took residence upon her other self's face the moment Red and Mireya began to walk away.

"I can see you already know exactly what you desire from us. From me more specifically," she says bluntly. "So out with it. Let's not beat around the bush."

The Queen cocks her head askew, eyes sharpening briefly before she returns to a more neutral posture. "Very well," she says, then smooths a hand down the bodice of her dress as she straightens her back. It's the first rule of negotiation per Cora Mills, never enter into one without projecting an air of absolute confidence. "I will summon Jefferson in exchange for your agreement to tarry here until such time as Prince Henry levels his accusations. If he is wise enough to do that through official channels, he'll have genuinely impressed me by exercising such restraint. But if he were to, say, attack and kill some of my men, seeing as he is an impetuous, inexperienced young man? Well, all the better for me. I'll take any leverage I can get in this squabble that I had no part in starting.

"Whatever his choice, though, you will personally accompany me to the mediation I will arrange with him via Lancelot. Once I'm vindicated by the confession _you_ will provide, negotiations can begin for reparations. To avoid conflict, the White Kingdom will cede the territories _Princess Emma_ so obligingly referenced, while for my part, I will publicly forgive the transgression and back the young prince's ascension to the throne, all but guaranteeing the security of his reign. Afterward, I will ensure you get back home lest your head be required as retribution for the murders you committed. In the end, everyone wins."

Regina rolls her eyes at the well devised plot to essentially blackmail land out of Henry whilst he is most vulnerable to manipulation. That he isn't _her_ Henry does little to erase her annoyance.

"Well, I can see that you haven't changed nearly as much as I thought you had," she says, quite bitter about being confronted with her own tendency to default into serving her own interests, even when they run counter to those of her loved ones.

The only meaningful difference between herself and the Queen is that she'd never developed the ability to juggle both the ruthless politician and the loving wife and mother. Whether in the Enchanted Forest or Storybrooke, there was never enough room in her heart to accommodate such highly demanding and dichotomous desires. She was either all of one or all of the other. But the Queen seems to have found a happy medium – yet another drop of fuel to the already dangerously swelling tank of envy for her alternate.

The Queen doesn't appear angered by the accusatory tone, though, and rather seems to pity Regina's vindictiveness, which that grates even more at her already frazzled nerves. She grinds her teeth against the desire to scream as the unbearably smug monarch launches into yet another haughty speech.

"What? You think because I fell in love that I became soft?" The Queen laughs lightly at absurdity of the idea. "Hardly. Red knows who I am. She always has. I didn't have to change to suit her, and if I have, it's only because I wanted to, not because she asked it of me. I may be a happy woman, I may be fulfilled in my family life, but I am still a Queen who is always looking for ways to further secure my position, and my family's by extension, especially if it is also beneficial to _all_ of my people. If it makes me evil to want my daughter to inherit a growing, prosperous, and progressive realm where the nobles are kept contentedly fat and the ordinary citizens offered ample means at betterment, well, then so be it."

Lips curling with barely restrained fury, eyes hardening into granite, the Queen sweeps her skirts, then strides toward Regina. "I've been the Evil Queen already. Being referred to by that pejorative long ago lost its potency. So scoff at me all you wish. Sneer down your nose at me just as my most disdainful detractors do. Hate me. Revile me. Loathe me with every fiber of your being. Just realize, your opinion is meaningless to me. I've embraced who I am and found someone to love me who does the same. Can you say that for yourself?" By the time the provocative monologue is over, the Queen is in Regina's face, daring her to contradict anything she'd said.

"Why, you arrogant _bitch_..." Fire pulsing through her veins and brimstone burning in her eyes, Regina waves her hand, about to summon up a fireball and roast her pompous counterpart – never mind that she's only outraged because the Queen is right.

Thankfully Emma stops her progress by clamping a hand forcefully around Regina's forearm. "Hey! Stow it, hothead!" Emma shouts as she yanks Regina back, causing the Queen to smirk tauntingly. "You, too! Rubbing her nose in how shitty her life is compared to yours is _not_ helping!"

Although the barb was clearly meant as incentive for the Queen to modulate the animosity, it finds purchase in Regina's chest just the same as the Queen's tragically accurate assessment as to the impetus for her bitterness. Hurt suffuses her entire being at having her misfortune flung about, and she shoots a wounded expression toward her supposed friend who had so callously wielded it.

But Emma is implacable and the Queen only seems to be reveling in her misery, so to save face, Regina resorts to an old, familiar standby: indignation. "Excuse you! My life is most certainly not... _that_ , and I'd appreciate you to refrain from using such crass language in the presence of royalty."

Shaming Emma for her language was petty, but she'd not had the capacity to refrain when she feels reduced to little more than a wounded animal lashing out at whatever is closest at hand, even if it is someone who only wants to help.

Of course, the Queen has to get her two cents in, and does with all of her typical charm. "Says the woman who just called me a bitch."

Regina growls menacingly, her reserves of restraint precariously taxed. "Keep goading me you'll hear much worse."

The noise Emma makes as the two Reginas stare each other down while sizing one another up is nothing short of unadulterated aggravation. It kind of reminds Regina of the one the blonde used to make during the Curse when they had finished yet another verbal tussle, which means she is well versed in deciphering exactly what the amalgamated groan-moan-growl means. It is particularly satisfying to hear it now considering Emma's recent abrasiveness.

"Oh, my God!" Emma then says, hands now balled into tight fists and cheeks reddening as she vents her frustrations. "Ladies, please! Both of you can it!" At precisely the same time and in exactly the way, Regina and the Queen arch their brows in response to the outburst. Emma ignores both as she whirls on Regina first. "Regina, tell her you agree to her stipulations and thank her for being so gracious."

"Emma..."

Although Regina's tone is ominous, Emma promptly ignores her. "Don't even start with me, woman! I'm exhausted and sick to death of hearing you two snipe at each other! Now stow your enormous ego and do it!"

For a moment Regina considers further resisting, if only to push Emma to the very edge of her paper-thin patience. She thinks better of it when the Savior's green eyes flash with her own equally threatening warning that Regina decides, against her instinctive combativeness, to heed. Starting a fight with Emma right now would be a mistake not only in terms of her ability to win but in their present circumstance. Any hint of division between them would present a tasty opportunity for the conniving monarch to leverage. To what end Regina cannot possibly predict without more data, but none of the potential outcomes of a wedge being driven between herself and Emma are likely to be in either of their favors. Considering Emma's offensive behavior, it was distasteful to present the Queen with a unified front, but that was precisely what she was going to do.

She huffs her concession before audibly relaying it. "Fine," she says to a relieved looking Emma before glancing hatefully in the direction of her counterpart. "I agree to the conditions as you set them out."

"And?" The Queen snickers under her breath at Emma's prompting.

The words taste like she imagines rancid crow dipped in battery acid would, but Regina spits them out all the same. If her delivery is a little too saccharine to be genuine, well, that's not her problem is it?

"And _thank you_ for being _so_ gracious," she says, and then without bothering to await the Queen's response, sharply glares at 'her friend.' "There. Happy?"

Emma nods curtly. "Very. Now, you," she points to the Queen in a delightfully audacious manner that Regina finds very satisfying, "tell her that we have a deal, and then be so kind and Queenly as to direct your esteemed guests to their fu-freaking quarters."

Regina relishes the way the Queen tenses up at Emma's utter disregard of decorum. She imagines the woman must be quite unaccustomed to having her absolute authority challenged. _Score another point for Emma Swan_ , Regina thinks, remembering the way she'd felt when a newly arrived Emma did the same thing to her. It seems as if standing up to Regina, in whatever form she assumes, is a talent unique to the Savior.

"If I must," says the Queen, appearing accommodating more out of shock than respect.

Emma chuckles darkly. "Oh, believe me, you must."

Sable brows raise even higher. "Well, then. I'd hate to incur the wrath of Princess Emma of the White Kingdom!" Said sarcastically, the Queen nonetheless acquiesces. She levels Regina with an unyielding gaze. "We have a deal. But I'll be having a written agreement drawn up first thing in the morning. You will both be expected to sign it."

When Regina begins to protest having her integrity questioned, Emma makes that annoyed sound again. "Don't even think about it, Regina," she says, just as snippy as before. "I mean it. Enough!" To the Queen she directs a curt, "We'll do it."

"Excellent." The Queen relaxes, a convincing smile spreading across her features that would fool anyone except Regina as to the fact that she is still steaming at being so impudently confronted. The only reason Regina trusts any of what her alternate says next is because she needs their help as much as they need hers. "In that case, follow me and I will personally escort you both to your quarters. Out of respect for the legitimate royalty present, I'll assign you to two of the Royal Guest Chambers."

Regina fumes silently at the well-aimed slight, and her displeasure deepening into suspicion that there are ulterior motives behind the ostensible generosity, she is unable to hold her tongue. "Why, so you can keep an eye on us? Protect your _precious_ interests?"

Emma sighs in exasperation that would be humorous if not for Regina's still-simmering outrage. "What she meant was, " _Thank you, Your Majesty. That would be splendid!'_ "

"You're very welcome, Princess Emma," the Queen says, gazing appreciatively at Emma. "Nothing but the best for such a bold young lady such as yourself."

And then the Queen beckons them to follow her. Regina does so, holding back further commentary on her shoddy treatment, if only to spare herself more of Emma's brutal chastisement. She second guesses that decision when the Queen spares her an insufferable grin as they make their way down the carpeted aisle toward the grand doors of the throne room. By some minor miracle, she refrains from throttling her infuriating alternate, and instead silently grinds her teeth as they make their way through the labyrinth of hallways that lead from the throne room to the Royal Quarters.

The procession of three stops in front of an ornate looking door a few rows from the end of the hall where she assumes the Royal Chambers are located.

"I will take my leave here to join my wife and daughter in the gardens," says the Queen after flicking her wrist to magically unlock and push open the door. To Regina, she merrily adds, "This is where you may stay. Rest well. We have a long, exciting day ahead of us tomorrow."

This time Regina lacks the willpower to bite back an acerbic response. "If it's as delightful as today has been, I can hardly wait."

The Queen just smirks at her before taking Emma's arm to lead her to the next room. Regina extends them both the courtesy of ignoring their apparent rapt camaraderie as she steps into the chambers.

Upon entry, she spares a glance around the room, finding it in every way ordinary for a guest chambers in the Royal Wing of a castle. The damask linen curtains are peeled back and cinched to hooks on the walls, allowing the waning sunlight to filter in through spotless windows. Furniture of various sorts line the walls ranging from an intricately carved armoire, to a quaint little vanity sporting an ovular mirror, to a plain writing desk and chair set furnished with ink, quill, and parchment.

It is the bed that draws Regina's attention away from everything else. An enormous four-poster, it is supplied with plush blankets and large, goose-down pillows that look irresistibly inviting to her suddenly weary bones. She shuffles over and plops down heavily on her back. As she stares at the vaulted ceiling above, her enlivened mind stands in opposition to her bodily fatigue. Quite unable to control the whirling flow of thoughts, she runs through the events of the day, from the disastrous encounter with Robin, to Mireya so fortuitously discovering them in the woods, and on to the immense pleasure of being introduced to her alternate self, Her Majesty the Salt-and-Pepper Crowned Queen of Snark.

Eventually, though, her ruminations wander into territory she'd been hoping to avoid for the sake of her sanity. Her brain, however, appears determined to dredge up the unsettling revelation of how inadvertently mislead she was by Tinker Bell. Her gut twists at the implications.

In being told her soul mate was a man with a lion tattoo, she'd made a snap decision to reject the opportunity for new love based on apprehension, and not just that the strange man might threaten Daniel's place in her heart, but that the fires of vengeance burning in her belly might be quenched. Had she known her True Love was instead a _woman_ whose affliction gave her unique understanding into Regina's complex personality, she may have chosen differently. Especially seeing as Red was at least a decade her junior, she would have had plenty of time to come to terms with her destiny before Red was of suitable age to approach. But now she'll never know what might have been, and what makes it all the more galling is that her entire conception of how she's lived her life since that critical moment at the tavern with Tinker Bell has been fatally undermined. What the Queen shares with her Red is undeniable, and though her head is stubbornly clinging to a rapidly depleting belief that bond doesn't apply to her and Ruby, her heart is another matter altogether.

Uninvited tears sting Regina's eyes, and she is powerless from emotional overload to prevent them from falling. Everything since that imbecilic fairy fluttered into her life like a tiny green hurricane of false hope has been suddenly thrown into question, every decision thereafter cast into doubt, especially those she made during the Curse concerning Ruby.

There was a time she'd entertained the idea of seducing the bright-eyed, scantily clad waitress who alone among the denizens of Storybrooke showed no fear of her and treated her like an actual human being, a girl whose smile seemed uniquely able to breach the cloud of dissatisfaction that so quickly settled over her temporarily sunny happy ending. No one else in town could make her laugh or brighten her day with a kind word the way Ruby did as she handed Regina her morning coffee. But like always, Regina ran scared from her own feelings, from what she can now see, even if dimly, her heart was trying to tell her. And hasn't she paid the price for her cowardice a dozen times over? Blood stains her hands that otherwise wouldn't have if she'd had an ounce of courage, Graham's preeminently, and who's to say many other things wouldn't have turned out for the better? Like her relationship with Henry as the Curse deteriorated. Would she have been a better mother to him if she was also in a real, meaningful relationship with Ruby? The chance of that being true seems more likely than improbable now that she's witnessed firsthand how happy the Queen is with Red and how good a parent she is to Mireya. But she'll never know for sure, will she?

To top off the shame of that failure, she also has to live with the intolerable reality that she'd fallen in love with a man who wasn't meant for her while the woman who _was_ meant for her also fell in love with someone else. What the hell is she supposed to do with that? How is she supposed to go back home to a normal-ish life knowing that her fated happily ever after is currently residing in Oz with a woman who is, in spite of appearances to the contrary, not a True Love match? How is she supposed to maintain her reputation as a redeemed villain when it will be a colossal struggle not to tear a hole in the world to reach Oz with the sole purpose of destroying Ruby's happiness, fraudulent as it is, while selfishly pursuing her own?

Regina doesn't have a clue how to answer any of those questions. And as she lays there sleepless for hours, they trouble her mind and prick at her conscience until she finally gives in to her sorrow.

Curling up into a ball on the bed, she stares into nothingness and allows tears of bitter, angry confusion to fall silently down her cheeks until they run dry. Only then does she fall into a fitful sleep plagued with nightmares featuring a recently slain Dorothy Gale lying at her feet as a horrified Ruby grievously wails over the inert form of her lover. The ghastly specter of Robin's rotted corpse hovers menacingly at her back, his glassy eyes boring into her skull as his hand clamps viciously around her shoulder. Her imaginary flesh pebbles beneath his touch as the chill of the grave seeps through her clothing, penetrates into her chest and then corkscrews down her spine, leaving her trembling and unable to speak as Ruby's grief shifts from heaving sobs into a droning keen that is hardly human.

"This is all your fault," undead Robin whispers in her ear, his accent tinged with devilish accusation. His cloudy eyes are fixed on Ruby with paradoxically gormless perception. "Poor thing. She never stood a chance, did she?" He laughs cynically, and the awful rasp of it is only underscored by the rattling of his ribs. "Nor did I, I suppose. We were both your unwitting victims."

Guilt claws at her conscience as Robin's withered fingers dig into her shoulder painfully deep. "I didn't want this!" she shouts despondently. "It was an accident! A simple misunderstanding! I didn't mean to kill Dorothy, I just wanted Ruby to know the truth!"

"And what truth is that, _Regina_?" He speaks her name as if it is a curse, and if not for his vice grip on her shoulder, Regina would have reeled back at the animosity with which it was delivered.

Again, guilt rubs her insides raw and dries out her throat as it rises up from the acidic pit of her stomach. She clenches her eyes shut against the smell of Robin's betrayal wafting out of him more pungently than his advanced state of decay. Inadvertently though it was, by entering a relationship with him, she'd deprived him of the opportunity to find his own happy ending just as surely as she had herself by so ignorantly trusting the word of a headstrong, reckless, incompetent fairy out to prove something to her superiors. In erroneously believing that lie, however well-intended it was, Regina had damned herself and Robin along with her. The taste of that atrocious mistake is an acrid gall that burns her tongue right along with her heart.

It really sinks in then that for all intents and purposes, she'd killed Robin by simple virtue of loving him, and for that reason alone he never really stood a chance in hell of surviving. He was never supposed to be hers, just as she was never supposed to be his; and if there is one thing Regina knows about fate aside from it's remarkable antipathy for her, it's that more than all else it detests being subverted. Circumventing destiny is a recipe for disaster, meaning that from the moment her lips first touched Robin's, his doom was a matter of inevitability. His being erased from existence via the Olympian Crystal was not just a tragedy born of circumstance, but an extreme course correction instituted by fate, and it was all her fault.

Dreaming though she is, Regina wants to shrivel up and die, a familiar feeling she thinks. But then Ruby's wretched sobbing resumes and she can hardly stand it for the urge to tear her hair out by the roots. It is maddening to hear such plaintive cries and desperate begging coming from a person of such indefatigable strength. When everyone else had abandoned or been aligned against Snow during her years on the run, Red was an unshakable rock; and when Mary Margaret had been all alone for three decades under a curse that turned a town full of people who adored her into her passive-aggressive tormentors, Ruby remained her stalwart supporter. Not even inadvertently slaughtering her True Love and killing her own mother for Snow's sake had broken the woman, but Regina had done it without even trying, and what's worse is that she'd set all of this totally avoidable pain in motion by trusting the wrong fairy.

"It's not supposed to be this way," she says, to Robin or to Ruby she isn't quite sure. She only knows that a column of panic is rapidly rising through her chest as Ruby grows ever more disconsolate and Robin's frigid aura more malefic. "She's my True Love. That's what I was here to tell her. She's supposed to be with me! Not Dorothy. Tinker Bell was wrong and that's why all of this is happening! So it's not my fault that you or Dorothy died. Don't you see? She's supposed to be with me!" She beats at her breast emphatically. "Mine! Not Dorothy's! This is not my fault!"

But it is her fault and she knows it, which is why she only folds in further on herself when Robin hatefully renders judgment upon her.

"Will you never take responsibility for your crimes?" he says, and as he speaks his turgid, corpse-like frame begins to unravel into dust before her eyes. "Will you remain forever a misguided victim of circumstance and outside manipulation? You made choices, Regina, choices that wrought untold death and destruction. You are the source of _every_ misery inflicted upon those so helplessly trapped within the inexorable circle of your fate. Those who don't die as a result of being affiliated with you inevitably come to wish they were. The sooner you face that reality, the better off everyone will be. So let her go. Spare her the ruin of your fatal toxicity and let her be happy the way you wouldn't let me." The last words are but a harsh breeze in the wind as Robin vanishes into the ether of her dreamscape.

Regina's eyes search for him frantically until Ruby gasps in pain. She glances down just in time to see a figure laden in black linen robes positioned behind Ruby, a two-edged sword held in clenched fists that has been driven through Ruby's chest. Regina releases an anguished scream as she tries to rush to Ruby's aid, but her feet are firmly rooted as if in coarse quicksand that holds her fast yet refuses to swallow her up, as if to prolong the torment.

"Everyone around you dies..." the figure says, and then throws back the hood to reveal a horrifying visage bathed in wreaths of flame. It is one Regina instantly recognizes as the face of her mother, full of scornful disappointment and open condemnation. "I tried to warn you that love is weakness."

And then she twists the sword in her hand. Ruby gives an agonized grunt before her eyes roll into their sockets and her head sags limply so that her chin falls to her chest. The demonic version of Regina's mother places a boot against Ruby's back and then yanks the sword free with a grotesque squelch, and as Ruby's body slumps lifelessly sideways, Cora levels her with an icy gaze.

"You could have prevented this if you'd just listened to me. But you always thought you knew better, didn't you? Once again I've proven you wrong, Regina, and now her blood is on your hands. Just like Daniel's. Just like your Father's. Just like Rocinante's. Just like Graham's. Just like Robin's. Just like..."

"Stop it!" Regina shouts to the top of her lungs, unable to bear any more. "Stop it! Stop it! I'm sorry! I didn't want this to happen! I didn't want _any_ of it! All I ever wanted was to find love and be happy, and it all went so wrong! I'm sorry! I'm s-so, sorry!" And with a bitter cry, she collapses to her knees, spent, defeated, hopeless, and ready to accept what she has so richly earned: an ignoble death.

Her mother pitilessly poises the sword upon her breast as if privy to her thoughts. "You are sorry, indeed. Which makes it that much easier to give you what you so richly deserve."

Regina feels the blood-soaked steel penetrate her flesh before the latent echoes of a wolf's mournful howl permeate through the fog of her dreams. She wakes with a hoarse shout, sweating and panting. Tears she didn't know she had left to shed soak her cheeks and stain the pristine covers. Hours remain until dawn, but the nightmare has left her so rattled that she spends the rest of the night trembling under the thick covers. The guilt over her culpability in so much suffering is her sole companion in the darkness.

Sometime right before the sun crests over the horizon, the wolf howls again.


	4. A Most Happy Accident

**Chapter 4 –** A Most Happy Accident

Regina gives up lying about an hour after dawn. To settle her disquiet over the frighteningly vivid nightmare, she throws off the covers, then pads over to the little vanity next to the armoire. Brushing her hair has always soothed her troubles, and she counts each precise stroke out to one hundred. The mindless rhythm restores her composure to tolerable levels, just not enough to wholly exorcise the demons that have clawed their way back up out of the custodial inferno of her own personal hell. In the light of that horrible eruption onto the landscape of her dreams, she wonders if it's such a good thing after all that her True Love isn't dead.

If there is any measure of truth to what the ghosts of her mother and Robin had said, Ruby is better off as far away from her as possible. Oz seems as good a place as any for Ruby to remain protected from her atrocious luck with lovers. And although Dorothy Gale may not be Ruby's destined mate, she is damn sure a better choice than Regina, who seems cursed by the gods to a life devoid of the love and happiness she has, for the majority of her life, craved more than all else.

Not that she is discounting the satisfaction she's derived from being a mother. Henry has certainly filled her heart with love in a way she never could have accounted for, and there's nothing in all the world she would give in exchange for a single moment with him. And yet, soon enough Henry would be off college, and then out into the world at large after graduating, thereafter to make friends and find someone with whom to settle down and raise a family. Where would that leave her? Who would keep her heart warm in the cold palatial confines of her home when her son moved away, taking his gentle, luminous flame with him? However hard she's loved her son, however much she's invested into him in lieu of finding a romantic partner, and however wonderfully he served as a balm upon the eternally seeping rends upon her heart, there is one void he simply could not occupy: that which formerly belonged to Daniel.

In that regard, hard as he tried otherwise, Robin had also failed. And how could he not have when no one could measure up to her beloved stable boy. Robin was a wonderful man, a thoughtful lover, and tenderhearted father, but he was wanting in comparison to Daniel's unrealized potential. The way he touched her, kissed her, and the way his stout form felt against her pliant curves never quite measured up to Daniel's taut, athletic frame, energized as it was by youthful earnest and relative innocence that made him precious. Robin, good a man as he was, was tainted by the world and by the sorrow that accompanies tragic loss. There was no light dancing behind Robin's eyes, just bravely concealed sadness, held in check by the tenacity of that lion heart of his to cling to hope.

But now there is someone she can believes with waxing confidence, might just fit the bill to assume Daniel's abandoned position. It's not been so long since Ruby left Storybrooke that she has forgotten the fire and passion for life somehow artfully arranged within a tantalizing package of mile-long legs, lips fashioned for kissing, green eyes more marvelous than expertly cut jade, and a smile capable of rolling away the blackest storm clouds to reveal the brilliance of a pristine noonday sun. Ruby is _living_ incarnate, a burning desire to experience everything from the lowest valley to the highest mountain peak, if only to say before she dies that she's wrung out every last drop from life.

Ruby is also a walking dichotomy of light and darkness that appeals to Regina in ways no one else can. Few thrive in the gray areas as she does. But Ruby wades through it with all the aplomb of a firefighter paving a path through the flames, and all without getting scorched. That fascinates Regina. Enthralls her. Makes her want to join Ruby in the midst of the inferno just to see how close they can get to ignition without being wholly consumed.

Now that she actually applies thought to these parallel affinities, she realizes how well suited she and Ruby really are to one another. Woman to woman and queen to wolf, they harmonize so deeply that she can see how she'd been so drawn to Ruby on a cold mountain top back when they were in the Enchanted Forest. She'd had a chance that day to shift her trajectory, to allow passage into her heart to a werewolf girl who slaughtered her best soldiers with next to no effort, wasn't afraid of her in the slightest, and could even keep up with her banter. Unwilling to let her guard down enough for the miraculous to happen, she'd rejected that chance. She'd chosen revenge over happiness, and then did the same again and again in Storybrooke. Because deep down, whether in her heart or her soul, she'd somehow recognized who Ruby was to her and was petrified of what she knew would happen should she surrender to the painfully natural attraction.

The Queen and Red are a slap in the face, a wake up call, a klaxon blaring its shrill alarm, sounding much the same as it had that day on the mountain: like raw, primal fear. Should she prove so bold as to pursue Ruby after returning home, and should they ever consummate their True Love, there will be no going back. Not for her, anyway. At last, she will have unleashed the total force of her love that has been held back since the night Daniel died.

Her mother had beat it into her head that love was weakness, but Cora only proclaimed such to conceal her own insecurities, her own failings. If only she knew how true it was for Regina, how love is her Achilles' Heel, her soft spot amidst a wall of impenetrable steel, only not because it is a distraction to what really matters in life but because she loves too much, too big, and too dangerously to let it have reign without catastrophic consequence. Her love is all or nothing. Her love is the unfiltered current from the generator, that when accepted consumes everything in it's path. What's most scary is that she has a sneaking suspicion Ruby's love is every bit as all consuming. And if that is true, there will be no recovery for either of them should they realize their destiny only for it to come hopelessly unraveled after the fact or for calamity to pay Regina a visit one last time.

Daniel's death had turned Regina into the Evil Queen, and she'd not been afforded the privilege of intimacy with him. Daniel was a staunchly traditional boy, and she'd been too terrified of her mother to cajole him into readjusting his principles. What would happen, then, if she were to give all of herself – body, mind, heart, and soul – to Ruby just to lose her in the worst way imaginable? What if her dream came true, just not in the sense that she murders Dorothy in a maniacally desperate bid to win Ruby's affection, but that in the end loving her is what gets Ruby killed? If that were to happen…

Regina shudders at the thought, and her stomach twists violently. The urge to vomit is powerful, but she chokes the waves of nausea back out of practice. She'd gotten good at that enduring years of Leopold's unwanted...attention. To distract herself, she brushes her hair more thoroughly until her scalp begins to protest at the roughness of the strokes. Annoyed at herself, she tosses the brush aside with a plaintive groan.

"Damn it all!" She sighs, pinching her nose against the beginnings of a migraine. Her eyes slide shut as she tries to shutter her racing thoughts. But all of her hard-won ability to force composure upon herself fails now that she's been given such a torturous glimpse at what should be hers...at what _would_ be hers if that meddling green bug had just done her job instead of trying to massage her own ego. Being banished to Neverland was a kind punishment for Tinker Bell in Regina's estimation.

With her eyes closed, all Regina can see now is Ruby. Flashes of what might have been, she whimsically thinks, as her imagination conjures up an image of Ruby – no, not Ruby, this is Red. Vivid as it is, the vision does not seem to be mere conjecture at all. Some faint magic is a work; she can feel it tingling in the back of her mind. Her eyes snap open hoping to break the spell, but instead she finds that a swirling vortex has taken up residence in the center of the vanity's mirror, and as it resolves into a shimmering picture, her surprise morphs into awe. For not only is the mirror displaying a static image, but it's begun to animate, as if a television screen displaying a movie, only the movie is from another life that could have been hers. Carried away as she is by what is revealed, she can't muster up the willpower to break away from the enchantment. So she sits, spellbound, unable to perceive the passage of time, and somehow, by some unknown magicks, she also experiences what she watches, her thoughts, feelings, sensations. It's incredibly overwhelming, and at the same time, a little bit like torture.

The setting is in the Old World, instantly identifiable by the vast forests and pristine air. Riding on horseback, Regina and Red are plodding side-by-side along the dirt path winding up the mountain upon whose precipice the Dark Palace was constructed. Red, with challenge gleaming in her eyes, eggs Regina on to race back to the Palace as the evening sun dips down over the horizon. Never one to turn down a contest of equestrian skill, Regina just grins before nudging Rocinante forward into an abrupt gallop.

They make it back just in time to avoid nightfall, and of course being that she'd spent the breadth of her youth relentlessly drilling in dressage, jumping, and eventing, Regina wins comfortably. She only gloats for the few minutes they amble through the hallways toward the Royal Quarters. Her haughty boasting ends abruptly the moment they're secluded within their bedchambers when Red unceremoniously tears their clothes away and then proceeds to carry Regina bridal style to the steaming bath the maids have prepared in anticipation of their arrival from a long day afield. They make love right there in the tub, slow and thorough, then again in the bed, this time a frantic coupling that leaves them both panting for air with a sheen of sweat glistening upon their heated skin. Regina collapses atop Red, nestles her head against her lover's left breast, and falls asleep to the steady thrumming under her ear of a strong heart that beats with mystical synchronicity with her own.

Regina gasps against a sob at the poignant scene she's glimpsed, but finds no respite from the sweet torment as a new image of Red springs to life. This time, her beloved werewolf is hauling a huge bundle of chopped lumber strapped tightly to her back by a thick rope – a load no man could bear without breaking his back. Genial and happy-go-lucky as always, Red greets every commoner and noble alike on her steady lope back toward the village settled at the base of the mountain. By the time she makes it there, she's sweating profusely, but still smiling, and she turns to say something to Regina, who has descended from their palatial abode to meet her.

Whatever greeting Red had prepared is stopped short by a little girl excitedly shouting her name. Eyes lighting up, Red carefully drops the load of lumber at her feet, then turns just in time to catch no less than forty pounds worth of giggling child.

" _Aunty Red, Aunty Red!_ " The child, all bouncing blonde curls and sparkling green eyes, is so enthusiastic that her frame practically trembles. " _I made Mama bring me to see you! I learned how to ride a horse this month and you said you'd run with me when I could keep up! It's the full moon tonight! So, will Auntie Gina let you? Huh? Huh?_ "

Red laughs, looking so happy that Regina's chest floods with a warmth that is nearly too wonderful to bear without crying out for joy. " _Emma, Emma,_ " Red says, famous smile at full wattage, " _of course I will! My wolf is itching to run tonight and would love the company of my favorite niece. I'm sure Auntie Gina won't mind, either. And like your Mama says, a promise is a promise!_ "

No one back in the Old World had ever dared referred to Regina by that reductive version of her name, but she is far from perturbed. On the contrary, she finds it charming when coming from the little green-eyed, golden-haired angel clinging to Red and laughing with unrestrained joy.

" _That is absolutely correct! I would be most honored for your company tonight, Princess Emma,_ " she says to the adorable little girl, who cheers as she breaks free from Red to launch herself into Regina's waiting arms.

" _Oh, thank you, Auntie Gina! You're the bestest ever!_ " Regina chuckles at how irresistibly cute Emma is, especially when she's so overly thrilled that she nearly wiggles out of Regina's embrace.

" _I am rather wonderful if I do say so myself_ ," she says as she squeezes the ebullient bundle of elation in her arms.

" _And humble,_ " another voice adds, and Regina looks up to see Snow White has been watching all of this with poorly concealed amusement.

" _Mama, they said yes!_ " little Emma delightfully crows as she runs to her mother once Regina releases her.

Upon noticing the new arrival, Regina is astonished to feel no hatred, no vitriol rising up to spill thoughtlessly from her lips as should have been considering the setting and the company. Even disconnected as she is from the vision, she knows without requiring elucidation that Red's presence in her life has healed the perpetually festering wound of Snow's betrayal. In loving Regina as fate had dictated before a certain green insect's interference, Red brought peace to not only one kingdom but two by miraculously extricating the poisoned barbs from the formerly weeping wounds of a tragic mutual past. And even though she and Snow are far from bosom buddies, they have at least moved beyond being enemies for the sake of their families – or at least Regina has. And though she can't speak for Snow, she gets the feeling that there is an abiding love for her at play just the same as in the real world.

Regina has to physically clamp a hand over her mouth at the backward prophetic vision showing her the life she _should_ have had. And it strikes her then as she contemplates Snow's presence, that no matter what course her life took, her irrational acrimony for the woman was never supposed to last as long as it did. How many years were wasted hating someone who has only ever loved her, and all because one deluded fairy decided to play god in an ill-fated attempt to garner brownie points with her superiors? Too many. The unfairness of it all leaves a bitter taste in Regina's mouth, like the bile that passes after the stomach has been emptied of its other contents. But before she can rail against Tinker Bell having got off easy as a wingless exile in Neverland, she's assaulted with another vision, the worst – and best – of them all.

In this one, Red is smiling up at her in the early morning sun, gloriously naked and radiantly in love. It's clear they'd pleased each other for God knows how long the previous night, as the room smells a latent, heady mix of their arousal. Further evidence for their carousing is presented by Red prettily wearing lip-shaped patches of reddened skin upon the elegant length of her neck along with bite marks on her breasts that would look painful if it weren't for how sated and happy she is.

From her position beneath Regina's equally naked body, Red stretches like a cat as she yawns. " _Mmm,_ " she hums after, " _you wore me out last night._ "

" _Slept good, did you?_ " Regina says, long raven tresses spilling over her left shoulder. She smirks pridefully at her incredibly gorgeous lover.

" _Good as you did_ ," says Red, lazy smile stretching over her full lips. " _You slobbered all over me. And you call me the mutt!_ "

Regina gasps in only partially faux affront as she lifts off Red. " _You lie! I did no such thing!_ "

Red giggles as she reaches up to rub at the base of Regina's spine. " _You're right. You didn't. I just said that 'cause you're too cute when you get all offended._ "

Rolling her eyes, Regina relaxes back down, settling their bodies together, breasts to breasts, legs entwined. " _You're lucky I love you so damn much. I've roasted people on a spit for less cheek._ "

" _I am lucky_." Red nods fervently, eyes huge. " _I'd hate to be roasted, if only 'cause charred wolf would probably smell up the place something awful_."

The joke actually draws a laugh out of Regina, which Red echoes, and for a while they are content to bask in their little bubble of happiness. Dancing eyes stay locked in amusement until a gravitational shift occurs, turning the moment weighty with significance. They spend another several minutes simply staring at each other unabashedly, visually drinking in one another before adding a physical element to their mutual adoration comprised of tender caresses to jaws, brows, noses, lips, and shoulders. And then they exchange a series of leisurely kisses, some with tongue, some without, but all full of heart and soul and the promise of forever that actually seems within reach in this fantasy world that should have been but never will.

Regina tears free of the pseudo-trance with a strangled cry. Knowing it isn't real doesn't stop her from wanting it to be with such ferocity that she aches for it down to the marrow of her bones. Is this what was stolen from her? Was this beautiful life the ultimate victim of abused fairy dust meant to lead to her happy ending instead of her unending misery? Somehow she knows the answer to those questions is a resounding yes, and rather than bringing her some hope for the future – because Dorothy Gale or not, Ruby is still alive, still unmarried, and not yet entrenched in the promising life she falsely believes to be founded upon True Love – it brings Regina only pain. Oz is only a vortex away, as Zelena possesses the power to travel to that realm at will via tornado while in possession of a wand of significant enough energies, but even so Ruby seems unreachable, and that makes Regina feel like she's on the descent to a whole new level of desolation that threatens to rob her of all reason.

She isn't sure how long she was under the sway of whatever just happened to her, nor can she account for how long afterward she sits at the vanity, vacillating between pulling at her hair and clutching tightly at her roiling stomach. All she knows is that the sun has risen markedly in the sky when a knock suddenly sounds upon her door.

Regina rises from her seat and strides over to the door after straightening up – she'd looked a fright from fretting herself over Ruby and Dorothy Gale and Tinker Bell's role in the upended fiasco that is her life. She opens it to find Mireya holding a tray containing victuals that would be more appetizing had she not just worked herself up into such a precarious state.

Her brow arches in greeting. "Good morning."

"Good morning! I brought breakfast," the girl says, indicating toward the tray with her head. "I picked out some things I thought you might enjoy since mother does, too. I hope that wasn't presumptuous of me."

"Not at all, dear," Regina says, managing a polite smile at such a thoughtful gesture. Mireya really is such a sweetheart that it's nearly impossible for her mood not to improve in her presence. Her nausea easing up a bit, Regina sweeps a hand in the direction of the table arranged next to one of the two windows in her chambers. "That was very kind of you. Do come in."

Mireya ducks in sheepishly, all of her bravado from the day before vanished now that she is back within the safety of her home. In the light of day and without the natural distrust of strangers to taint her perception, it's much easier for Regina to recognize how much a mix Mireya truly is of herself and Red. Visually the girl favors her taller mother; that much is blatantly obvious. Only the facial features bear any resemblance to Regina's, along with the color of her hair; otherwise she would categorize this miracle of nature as a carbon copy of Red, what with her wildly thick curls, wide and plump lips, ivory skin, enviable height, athletic build, and enchanting green eyes. Even the way she moves reminds Regina of what she'd observed in Ruby, all smooth and predatory when on alert but sort of gangly and uncertain the rest of the time.

But the way Mireya was with her mother especially screams Regina circa the year or so preceding Snow White's dramatic entry into her life via runaway horse. That eager to please demeanor with an undercurrent of rebelliousness she'd glimpsed in the throne room was so familiar that it nearly took her breath away. In Mireya, it is as if that part of Regina once a kind and loving soul who was yet bold to act when called upon has been perfectly reproduced. Wonder of wonders, that innocence was still present with Mireya in her early-to-mid twenties, which meant the Queen hadn't beat it out of her the way Cora had Regina.

As well, the magic dwelling within the girl is undeniably hers, which she'd sensed the instant Mireya began to transport them from the forest to the castle. Magical talent is genetic, so her offspring having access is no stretch of logic, particularly when Mireya was conceived in True Love. But rather than the heroic white brand of magic Emma wields, Mireya's is tinged with a darkness that shades it a deep violet just like hers. The Queen inside Regina crows with delight that her inclination for the less savory side of the human spirit has also been passed on. Regina mostly ignores her, though, as however much the darkness has touched Mireya, it has no hold. From first glance, Regina had deduced the girl is more pure of heart than Emma Swan ever dreamed of being, so pure that she is absolutely persuaded that should she dare to pull Mireya's heart from her chest, it would gleam a vibrant, spotless crimson. Perhaps, Regina thinks, Mireya is who _she_ would have been had Daniel not died.

Such fanciful and pointless considerations aside, seeing herself reflected in her flesh and blood offspring brings tears of yearning to her eyes. Henry was a wonderful child who was a delight to rear up until Snow White had to go flapping her jaws again to ruin her life by letting slip that Henry was adopted and then by further meddling in supplying her confused, impressionable son with that damnable book, and in that way, he soothed nearly all of her maternal urges. But there was always a part of her that craved to bear a child of her own so as to feel that life growing inside her, right under where she could lay her hand upon skin stretched to the limits of its elasticity as her belly grew to the size of a watermelon. And oh how she'd dreamed of the excruciating pain of labor yielding to the rapturous bliss of holding her squalling new bundle of angry pink flesh in her arms. Knowing that all of the discomfort and agony had been so very worth it because she could delicately caress their little scrunched up face, play with tiny fingers and toes so fragile looking as to cause genuine fear she might break them, and kiss them all over until she was breathless with joy and in tears.

Daniel dying had cheated her of that dream being realized, but Mireya being close enough to touch is a slap in the face that she hadn't expected. Her cheeks sting and her eyes prickle as if she'd really received a blow, but she forces herself to remain calm as her daughter passes by and enters the room. Unwillingness to show any weakness trumps all, even now in another world confronted with a child she'd once believed impossible for her to conceive.

And though she knows without a doubt Mireya would no sooner harm her than she would herself, Regina closely watches the girl as she ambles over to the table. Once there, she carefully places the tray directly in the center with the utensils facing the left seat so that Regina can arrange it as she wishes to eat upon. The action is painfully familiar, as it was the way Cora had preferred Regina to present her sequestered meals. And then Mireya stands behind the other chair, perfect posture with her hands folded neatly at her waist, eyes respectfully demure toward Regina as she waits for her guest to be seated first.

Another pang of longing squeezes at Regina's heart when Mireya smiles at her, because while the structure of it is all Red, the roiling emotion behind it is all Regina.

So as to not keep Mireya waiting and risk offending her, Regina returns the smile and crosses over to take her seat. Once she's arranged behind the table, Mireya sits as well.

"I hope everything is to your liking. I made it myself," the girl says, blushing a little as she stares. It's as if she is mirroring Regina, physically unable to look away for curiosity and an indiscernible feeling of magnetic familial attraction.

Regina's expression softens. "I'm sure it will be." To prove her assertion, she wields the utensils with all the precision she'd been taught to spear a savory link of sausage and then cut it in half. She's not surprised it tastes as delicious as it looks. Her culinary standards have always been high. During her tenure as Queen, the Royal Kitchen was staffed only by the most excellent chefs and bakers, and she'd spared no expense in managing her own back in Storybrooke. "As I expected," she says after she's chewed and swallowed. "Delicious. I'm impressed by your skill. Thank you, Mireya."

The praise causes Mireya to duck her head and nibble diffidently at her lower lip. When she glances back up, her cheeks are a pretty rose red. "You're welcome. I love to cook. I'm often found down in the kitchens learning when I have an hour free from my studies and obligations to the court."

"An admirable hobby," says Regina. "I'm sure your mother employs the finest culinary artists in the realms."

"She does. But I think I learn more when Mother is the one teaching me."

Both of Regina's brows shoot northward at that. "The Queen actively cooks?"

Mireya nods, growing wistful as she talks. "Not often. She's too busy to spend much time in the kitchens. Sometimes, though, she escapes down there to get away from nosy nobles or to simply find relief from the doldrums of court life. Cooking helps her relax, and it's a way for us to spend some private time together."

"Interesting." Regina samples some of the hashed potatoes, a staple dish from her ancestral land. Exquisitely textured and richly flavored by the infusion of red pepper flakes and melted cheese, the potatoes practically melt on her tongue. Regina has to hold back a moan; it's been too long since she made these for herself, and she's immensely pleased to note they taste exactly as they ought to if following her father's recipe. "I have to say, if this variety of recipe is what your mother is teaching you, I am envious," she says, having downed her food and wiped her lips with the provided napkin Mireya had tucked beneath the tray. "I did not develop my love for cooking until…after I gave up the crown, and even then I did not share that discovered joy with my son. Selfishly, I kept it for myself."

"You have a son?"

Mireya's voice has no real bark to it even when she's riled up, but her question is posed in such hushed tones that Regina barely catches it. She can't imagine why the girl might sound and appear so stricken by this news.

"Yes," Regina says, measuring her tone to keep things neutral while she feels her way around for a cause to Mireya's reaction. "His name is Henry and he's nearly fifteen years old now."

For a moment, the clouds part over to reveal those lovely green eyes Regina is already terribly fond of. "Henry?" says Mireya. "How curious! Mother wanted to name me Henrietta before Mama convinced her otherwise."

Regina exhales a mellow hum. "I'm not surprised. It was the name I'd chosen should I have adopted a girl."

"Oh." Again Mireya's visage mysteriously clouds over. "You adopted your son?"

"I did. Does that bother you?"

As if suddenly realizing what her dubious facial expression was conveying, Mireya's eyes widened in apology. "Not at all! Please, don't think I disapprove. Far from it! I think adoption is noble and lovely. As a matter of fact, my parents are talking about adopting in the near future."

"Is that so?" she asks, surprised to hear that her other self might have more children.

Henry being an only child was no coincidence. Regina loved her son more than life itself, but within a month of bringing him home, she had decided one was enough. Juggling the hectic, ceaseless responsibilities of caring for a newborn with those of being an extremely busy Mayor just about did her in. As amazing as the experience of raising Henry had been, she was in no hurry to repeat it, and she can hardly imagine how it could be any different for a _Queen_.

But then again, Regina had been a single mother and the Queen has the benefit of a wife who loves her and is almost assuredly willing to pick up the slack in whatever department of her life is currently being neglected. Judging by Mireya's character, it's obvious Red is a capable mother, and Regina can't fathom that any version of herself would marry an incompetent buffoon. During the Curse, Ruby had never projected any sort of passion for politics or management, but she had a good head on her shoulders for numbers and an uncanny memory, both of which aided her in her job serving as Granny's right and left hands in running Storybrooke's main dining establishment. In all likelihood, Red had undergone a crash-course in how to navigate the social and bureaucratic whirlpools of Court and eased into the role with all the agility of a thoroughbred royal if the general sunniness of the staff combined with the contentedness with which what few nobles she'd seen milled about the Palace could be used as a depth gauge.

Again, Regina feels cheated by fate, and the taste of her bitterness nearly gags her.

"Mmhmm." Mireya's lighthearted hum, unlike Regina's, is full of her ebullient personality, which assuages Regina's downturn in mood a great deal. "Mother says she's too old to raise another child, and that Mama's biological clock is ticking down to the final seconds, but I secretly think she wants to expand our family just as bad. Something about their True Love, being a magic-wielding werewolf keeps her from aging as fast as normal people, so it's not like she _can't_ do it. And besides, they'd talked about adopting before I came along."

"You say that as if your conception was regrettable," Regina says, not liking the tone Mireya had used attempting to hide her insecurity with humor. But the inference, to Regina, was clear. "Nothing could be farther from the truth, dear. I can assure you right now that you were a most happy accident."

"Yeah?"

The way Mireya's doubtful expression lifts with unbidden hopes makes her heart clench. "Without a doubt. Remember, I _am_ your mother – for all intents and purposes – so we share an identical past up to a certain point. I'm sure she's told you that I was an only child...or was until my half-sister dropped into my life not too long ago. When I was younger, I dreamt of getting married and filling a house with love and laughter and as many children as I could stand to birth. Then Daniel died and those dreams were entombed with him. But there came a day when I'd have given almost anything to have a baby of my own had I known the curse with which I made myself barren was not so irreversible as I'd previously believed."

"Mother says the same. About Daniel, that is. How she stopped wanting a family for a long time."

Regina is surprised once again. She really should be used to that by now, shouldn't she? "She's told you about him?"

"Yeah, she did," says Mireya. "It was painful for her, but she wanted me to fully understand why I was named as I am."

Regina didn't understand. "I'm confused. Mireya means 'miracle' in my father's tongue. It's a beautiful name, to be sure, but I'm not sure what that has to do with Daniel."

Mireya looks abashed at having left her statement so open-ended. "Oh! Sorry, I meant my middle name. It's Danielle. Mother got her way in at least that respect with my name."

Not an absurd development by any means, Regina is happy to note she'd remained faithful in this world to her promise of remembering her first love. After Daniel's death, she'd sworn that the first of any future children she might be graced with would bear his name.

She gives Mireya a smile conveying how pleased she is by how she'd named her daughter. "My son's middle name is Daniel," she then says, additionally pleased by the connection between her two children. Different as they are, she is the common thread tying Henry to Mireya, and that does something funny to Regina's insides that she can't quite define.

That one child may or may not be more real than the other doesn't even occur to her, as even if she'd had enough bandwidth to process her weird situation, she has no idea how the Wish Realm even works. She makes a mental note to speak to Rumple about it when she's home – should Aladdin prove inadequate as a font of information, that is.

Mireya returns her smile. "See, you really aren't all that different from her."

There is no arguing that point. "No," Regina sighs in concession, "I suppose I'm not." Similar as she and her alternate are, she nonetheless worries about the differences that she _has_ noticed, such as the Queen's eager willingness to play dirty to get what she wants. Manipulating a grieving young man is not the epitome of moral uprightness or heroism, which leads Regina to believe her Wish Realm self is less _her_ than the evil half she'd so recently sundered herself from. "Tell me," she says a beat later, gaze imploring Mireya for brutal honesty, "does she treat you well?"

A deep furrow appears between Mireya's brows that relays her momentary confusion. "Does she treat me well?" Mireya echoes the question as if to make sense of it, which she apparently does within mere seconds. "Are you asking that because of Grandma Cora?"

Regina tenses up, immediately concerned not only for herself and Emma, but for her child. "Have you met your grandmother?"

"No," says Mireya, and Regina exhales her worry with a whoosh. "She arrived before I was born. Mother doesn't mention her often, but usually when she does, it's after she thinks she's been unfair or said something needlessly cruel to me."

 _Makes sense_ , Regina thinks. She hadn't spoken to Henry about Cora until after the two already met, but every time she'd made a mistake parenting or unnecessarily lost her temper with her son, she thought of her mother. It had terrified her that she might be turning into the heartless monster who ingrained all the worst motherly attributes into her. That she managed to be a half-decent parent to Henry was more a testament to her iron will to be better to her son than her mother was to her than it was to any inherent goodness left in her heart after years of inflicting wanton misery and destruction upon the world.

How many times had she endured a magical thrashing simply because she misspelled a ridiculous word or spoke out of turn due to frustration with her lessons? Once, her mother had made her go to bed for an entire week without dinner simple because she forgot to place the knife on the correct side of the plate at an important state function. Doting on Henry seemed a natural compensation for the hell she'd endured as a child, and for the most part it had worked up until Henry learned he was adopted. That things so rapidly spiraled so out of control had her grasping for purchase on anything that provided a measure of confidence, and unfortunately, her most impervious hand-hold had been to imitate what she knew. Regrettably, that instinctive behavior almost cost her Henry, and it wasn't for any lack of trying on her part to destroy their relationship that it survived her frantic scrambling to preserve the Curse and her hard-earned family along with it.

Cora is the worst part of Regina, a part she very much doesn't want Mireya to ever be exposed to. She's seen what it does to her children.

Aloud, she says, "That's because my mother... _her_ mother – your Grandmother, that is – was not a good person. She was a cold, implacable, cruel taskmaster who only masqueraded as a caring mother when in the company of notable guests. The Evil Queen was as much her creation as Rumplestiltskin's and my own. My greatest fear in becoming a mother was that I would become her. That I would treat my child the way she treated me."

There is no accusation at all present in Mireya's eyes. "And did you?"

Regina folds her hands in front of her and shifts her eyes to study them as she speaks. "Mostly, no. From the time Henry was a baby until he turned ten, I doted on him endlessly. However, when his birth mother arrived in town, I slid back into old habits. During that time, I made many mistakes with him that I am truly ashamed of, some of which horrify me to this day."

"I'll bet he still loves you, though."

This is said with such assurance that Regina raises her eyes. Mireya's eyes are sparkling with an affection only a mother can recognize in her child. It lifts her spirits.

"Why do you say that?" she asks, needing to know for some strange reason.

Mireya softens. Gazing at her with even more love, if that is even possible, she says, "Because I still love my mother. Sometimes she can be downright mean, and she's said plenty of hurtful things to me before. There have even been times when I've felt so wounded that I directly questioned her love for me, though deep down I never truly doubted it. Hard as she is to be around from time to time, I know that she would give up the kingdom and walk away from power for me without a second thought."

Mireya slips her hand out over the table, palm up for Regina to take, having somehow picked up on Regina's internal turmoil. Hearing how she'd slipped up with this perfectly lovely creature she'd had no right being so blessed with rent her heart as if she'd carried Mireya inside her own body. The bond that already exists between them is more than a little disconcerting, but just as enthralling, and Regina find herself unable to resist taking the offered hand. Her daughter's skin is much warmer than hers, due to being a werewolf Regina guesses, but it feels right against her own.

"My mother isn't perfect," Mireya then says as her fingers wrap around Regina's knuckles, "but I don't need her to be. I just need to her to love me, and she does that better than anyone in the whole wide world except for Mama, and just as well as her. I don't need evidence to know that it's the same for your Henry, because you are her. A few different choices can't change who a person is at their core. Mother likes to say that, ' _We are who we are_.' I happen to agree. And, well, I know who you are."

Regina swallows heavily against the lump in her throat. This unconditional acceptance being offered from Mireya is all she'd ever wanted from Henry, and having it so free given makes her realize just how close she'd come to losing her son not so long ago. That Henry had no reason to doubt her love for him is irrelevant considering how she'd reacted when he started withdrawing his affection from her, and added to that, he had been hit with the double whammy of discovering he was adopted and being given a book of fairy tales that offered a perfect explanation to the adverse circumstances of a boy who always was a dreamer and who would one day be proven as the Truest Believer.

However justifiable Henry's reaction had been, Regina still can't help but wonder what might have happened had he not so coldly turned on her, if he'd actually talked to her about his recently developed problems instead of dwelling on them until they became an even bigger issue – not that she has room to talk about that, of course. Regina loves her son with all of her heart, but Henry had contributed to their sundering as much, or more in some aspects, as she had.

Mireya, on the other hand, simply radiates an unshakable belief in her that has warmth suffusing the whole of her body. And although she knows the girl isn't really hers, the love is there as if she were.

"Thank you, sweetheart," she says, slipping in the endearment without even thinking. "That means more to me than you'll ever know."

Mireya beams brilliantly at her, as if she'd just been told she accomplished the greatest feat in all of recorded history. "You're welcome...mother."

Being so referred to overwhelms Regina to such a degree that she has to chew roughly on her lip to keep from crying. And as she stares in awe at her gorgeous daughter, a peaceful silence comes over them both. Regina isn't certain how much time passes as they sit and lovingly smile at each other, trading caresses of fingers through their joined hands. All she knows is that for the moment, she's where she wants to be with whom she wants to be. Nothing else matters. Not getting back home to Storybrooke, not the danger she might currently be in as the central axis between a Queen's boundless ambition and a Prince's irrational ire, and not even Henry, which will later provoke a great amount of grief once she realizes that for the briefest time, her son had a legitimate rival for her heart.

"Hey, you decent in there?" the Savior shouts as she incessantly knocks, breaking the spell between Regina the precious girl she's starting to not only see but accept as her daughter.

Regina rolls her eyes, causing Mireya to chuckle. "Yes, Emma," she calls back, and is unsurprised that Emma barges in without being invited. "Do come in."

"Good morning to you, too, sunshine," Emma shoots back sarcastically. Upon catching sight of Regina sitting with Mireya holding hands, the edges of her lips quirk upward. "I see you've made a new friend."

"She's my daughter, not my friend," Regina corrects, not bothering to conceal her pride in this girl who doesn't even really belong to her and yet somehow just... _does_. "And Mireya was kind enough to bring me breakfast."

Emma arches a golden brow. "I can see that."

Before Regina can retort, though, Mireya releases her hand and clears her throat. Regina aches for the loss of contact, but says nothing as Mireya pushes back her chair, then stands and sweeps a hand over her dress.

"I should go. Your food is getting cold." Mireya sounds sheepish as she realizes their conversation has kept Regina from eating.

"Nothing a bit of magic won't fix," Regina says, then waves her hand to heat it back up with a simple spell. She glances back at her daughter, and they exchange grins of raw delight over their shared magic.

But however much Regina wants Mireya to stay, if only to further delve into just how powerful the girl really is, detaining her any further would be both selfish and rude. Mireya is not only her daughter, but a Princess in her own right with many daily duties aside from entertaining guests, even if one of said guests is an alternate version of her mother. "That said," Regina goes on reluctantly, "don't let me keep you when I'm sure you have other obligations to attend to."

Mireya gives a slight nod as she smiles apologetically. "I do, actually. I have to meet Mama to go over the royal ledgers for the end of quarter. We're pretty sure that weaselly Baron Blitz is plotting something and has been siphoning funds from the defense budget. Last month I noticed that the expenditures for our outpost on the border between..." She abruptly ceases upon catching Emma and Regina staring at her in amusement. She'd started to get animated as she talked, gesticulating wildly as she paced. "Sorry, I got carried away. I'm sure you don't wanna be bored with the details."

"On the contrary," Regina says, "I find state affairs fascinating, particularly when there are sinister machinations afoot. Ferreting out traitors was a fond pastime of mine. There's nothing quite so thrilling as stalking unsuspecting prey, is there?"

Mireya relaxes from her embarrassment, blowing out a breath. "There really isn't."

"Well, why don't you come by later in the evening and we'll talk it over. Maybe I'll be able to help you and your parents with this...issue."

The offer is easily made considering Regina had heard tale of this Blitz character, that he was nothing more than a conniving usurper with untoward designs on the throne. Snow and Charming, the most patient and sympathetic of all heroes, had exiled him from George's former kingdom within a year of their ascension, which says much regarding the man's character – or lack thereof. There is an element of her desire to lend aid that is directly related to how keenly she misses state-level politics, but mostly she wants to for Mireya's sake. If she can help her daughter be rid of a potential threat to her future reign, all the better.

"I..." Mireya shuffles a bit, seeming a little nervous as she considers letting Regina help. But then her fidgeting stills and resolve spreads over her features. "I think I would like that. I could come after dinner tonight if that's alright?"

Regina smiles her agreement. "After dinner it is."

Mireya rubs her hands together for a moment as if wrestling with how best to extricate herself. _The girl really is too precious for words_ , Regina thinks with a fondness for Mireya that only seems to grow with every passing second.

"Well," Mireya says after lingering a little too long for comfort, "I'll be going now so you can eat in peace."

"Unfortunately there won't be any of that for me this morning." Regina pointedly glances up at Emma, who glares back at her. She returns her attention to Mireya, feeling smug at Emma's annoyance. "Thank you again for breakfast, dear. And for everything else."

She doesn't elaborate on the kindness she'd been shown out of a desire to spare her daughter any further embarrassment. Honestly, she didn't think the girl's light olive skin could turn any more red, which leads Regina to think about how Ruby came by her name, which leads to all kinds of thoughts best left untapped for now.

Clearing her throat, she adds, "I look forward to tonight."

"Me, too," says Mireya, grinning brilliantly. "Until tonight." Regina echoes the sentiment, and then Mireya makes her exit, still flushed prettily.

Regina watches her daughter leave, a little bit enchanted and a whole lot in love. It's not the last time she'll have that feeling before the Wish Realm ordeal is over.


	5. Striding Toward a Date with Destiny

**Chapter 5** \- Striding Toward a Date with Destiny

Regina stares in mild disgust as Emma wolfs down the half-portion of her meal she'd neglected to eat. Not that the food was awful – as she'd told Mireya, it was delicious. The problem was that after the emotionally taxing conversation she'd just had, her appetite fled as quickly as it arrived upon her first whiff of those amazing spicy hashed potatoes. Watching Mireya leave while wanting her so badly to stay hadn't helped matters either. And then there was the good ole Damoclean Sword of Tinker Bell's supposed screw up adding inconceivable complexity to the already overly complicated situations she was dealing with back home. Stuffing down any further sustenance with all of that metaphorical weight pressing down on her chest and stomach would have only resulted in making herself sick.

Finding the time to adequately process having half of her being violently ripped away by choice was impossible when that choice came back to haunt her within days. Regina feels like all she's been doing since returning from New York is putting out fires. First there was Hyde's brief reign of terror, then the Queen's, and now just as the latter seems to be resolved to a degree of partial satisfaction, she's been marooned in a world she isn't sure is even real, all because she lacked impulse control when confronted by a less scrupulous version of her dead lover. And now there are the bombshells from this stint in George's former kingdom to deal with. Finding out her other self had a daughter was shocking enough, but learning about Tink's mix up with Robin Hood combined with the revelation of Ruby Freaking Lucas as her True Love set her brain to spin cycle. It's all so very confusing and so very painful that Regina can hardly breathe.

The sole light in all of this recent madness is Mireya. Not a sliver of Regina doubts that eventually she would have realized who the girl was to her; that was how strong the intangible thread was that seemed to be drawing them to together. It was like her body recognized it's own fruit upon proximity, the fact be damned that she'd Cursed herself to never be capable of giving birth. The implausibility of those feelings couldn't explain them away when that same maternal desire was there with Mireya as it is with Henry. All she wants to do every time she's close to Mireya is hug her as tightly as she possibly can before peppering that precious face with kisses until her unwitting victim is laughing whilst playfully fending off the outrageous display of affection. Regina wants to be the one to accompany Mireya on afternoon jaunts upon horseback, to see the vast tracts of land that belong to their family, and then in the evening teach her daughter to govern the dauntingly complex creature that is a vast, diversely populated kingdom. When night falls, she wants to have the freedom to crawl into bed behind Mireya as she sleeps, then tug her baby girl into her arms so she can fall asleep to the sounds of gentle breathing and the sweet foresty scent, so markedly different than Robin's musky one, that seems to emanate from Mireya's every pore. Nothing would give her more gratification than to be a mother to that girl; it burns within her pores and sings inside her veins.

And yet she isn't Mireya's mother, however much she wishes to be. And, oh, does she ever wish it! More than she ever thought possible. More fervently than anything she'd ever wished upon a star for as young girl full of dreams and ambitions without a clue as to the hellish morass of loss and abuse awaiting her. More than she'd wished even for Daniel to come back from the dead to rescue her from a life of misery from which there seemed to be no escape.

Discovering Mireya's existence has torn opened a door that Regina had painstakingly barricaded shut, and now she's being inundated by maternal instincts for someone else other than Henry, which is disconcerting for a whole other slew of reasons. She'd went to war once for her son, risked it all on a desperate gambit to eliminate the threat his biological mother posed to her position in his life. Nearly losing Henry in the process taught Regina a bitter lesson about herself. To defend her children, there is nothing she won't do. Applying that logic to Mireya is especially scary considering their biological connection, not that she loves Henry any less, just that it's so shockingly powerful that it's created an unwholesome desire in her to worm ever more deeply into Mireya's heart.

Regina shudders and clamps her eyes shut against the temptation to create such a rift. To be sure, the Queen wouldn't take such manipulation lying down. But that seductive old voice, enlivened by this tantalizing opportunity, doesn't much care about what her counterpart might do as it whispers insidiously in the back of her mind.

" _It would be so easy_ ," it says, " _to tempt the girl to my side. She already thinks of me as a form of her mother, and her confession of being mistreated on occasion certainly opens up an avenue of attack. It is possible with the right amount of persuasion that I wouldn't have to leave this place without her after all. I could bring her with me to Storybrooke. Be her mother for real. Show her how much better I am than this false version of myself. I could make her happy._ "

The problem is that Regina knows these are all lies she's telling herself to justify these perverse urges. Manipulating Mireya with the selfish purpose of taking away from her home and her parents is the kind of thing she would have done when she'd worn a blood-bought crown and a malevolent smile fueled primarily by insanity. She's ashamed by it, by her weakness to allow the Evil Queen to resurface again, even when that dreadful aspect of her personality isn't even supposed to present anymore. The Evil Queen still existed separate from Regina; therefore, there ought to be no traces of her left. And yet the evidence is undeniable. The redeemed, guilt-free, heroic Regina wouldn't want to steal a daughter from her mothers, now would she?

How, then, can she possibly eat when her stomach is full of monstrous butterflies and her heart is traitorously aching with every single beat? She's sickened herself with her own proclivities that she seem will never fully purge herself of.

Of course, she'd also felt wretched for not being able to finish the meal so painstakingly prepared for her by Mireya...her _daughter_ , but she'd not been able to force down another morsel without risking the latent nausea suddenly going active. Fortunately Emma had been all too willing to make a noble sacrifice.

"Can't let that girl's cooking go to waste," the Savior had said as she'd tucked into what was left of the potatoes.

Mireya had been thoughtful enough to cook for Emma as well, which only made her all the more incredible to Regina and, in turn, made the longing to keep her that much worse. Which is why as Emma unashamedly stuffed her face, Regina pretty much stared at the door with a wistful expression on her face, half-hoping Mireya would return but mostly resolved to having to wait some hours before she was graced with her daughter's presence once again. It was an untenable wait when minutes seemed too long.

"Hey, earth to Regina..."

Regina startles when Emma waves a hand in front of her face. "I'm sorry. Did you say something?"

"I was just asking how your visit with Mireya went," says Emma, eyeing her strangely. "You two seemed awfully chummy when I came in."

Regina huffs out a scoff, wanting to rebuff Emma's inquisition as caustically as she can. But she curbs the urge, knowing there's no point. Too many bites and stings have developed an immunity in Emma to Regina's particular strain of venom.

"Not that it's any of your business," she says, nonetheless unable to contain her aggravation at being prodded. "But if you must know, we had a lovely visit. We discussed our love of cooking, amongst other topics."

Emma seems confused by Regina's grouchiness. "Isn't it a good thing you bonded with her? She's your daughter. You're supposed to feel a connection. I know I did with Henry."

Regina concedes the point with a terse sigh. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she struggles to accept her feelings as appropriate when they are touched by the eternally resilient shadows cast by her unscrupulous persona.

"But you're Henry's _true_ mother," she says, not thinking about the context with which Emma may interpret the argument.

Rather than counter, Emma's lips turn up with arrogant pleasure. "Oh, what I wouldn't give to have a recording of this conversation. It would be so satisfying to replay it every time you remind me who really raised him."

Regina glares at the blonde agitator sitting all-too-comfortably across from her. "Don't be an insufferable ass. That's not what I meant."

"I know. I was just teasing. I know exactly what you meant," Emma says, some of her smugness dissipating into the friendly earnestness that eventually wore down a lonely, hateful woman's meticulously constructed defenses. It's an admirable trait, really, just not when being used against Regina. "I just happen to disagree that you're not that girl's mother."

"I fail to see any line of reasoning that would convince you of that." Which is true from Regina's point of view.

Since meeting Mireya, she has worked this problem out in her head a dozen times. It is indisputable that Mireya shares half of her genetic material, but to Regina being a mother is so much more than sharing DNA. Being a mother means changing dirty diapers; it's operating on an hour of sleep per night because babies don't rest like adults do and even when they do it's terrifying to leave them alone for a second out of an irrational fear they might stop breathing at any moment. Being a mother is wiping a snotty nose with the sleeve of a five hundred dollar blouse, making inane airplane noises to coax a stubborn infant into accepting a spoon full of mashed peas, and rocking for hours on end with the baby held snugly to the chest then falling asleep because both mother and child are exhausted from a busy day crawling all over the house playing peekaboo among a plethora of other games that would be mortifying outside the safe confines of home. Motherhood isn't just a title, it's a full time job requiring selfless sacrifice and the suffering of countless anxieties over a child's safety and health. One does not simply get to show up in a child's life after they're fully grown and proclaim to be their parent. It's a position that is earned through backbreaking toil and the shedding of endless tears.

Emma hadn't got to truly claim she was Henry's mother until she decided to 'woman up' and take responsibility for making the hard decisions that Regina had been making for ten years. For that reason alone, she of all people should understand why Regina would feel reticent to make any sort of similar claim on Mireya.

"Like I said," Emma says, "I resisted it at first, but I felt that tug with Henry from the minute I opened the door and saw him standing there with that too-big-for-his-little-body book in his hands. Mothers know their babies, Regina. Something exists between a mother and her child that defies all logic and every single law of physics. It's how they always seem to know when something's wrong, even when their child is another world away."

Regina snorts. "Doesn't work so well if Mom is Cursed."

The phrasing of the latter comment was utterly void of vicious intent, and Emma was likely not even aware it could be misconstrued as a dig at Regina. Emma often enough subconsciously mentions being forcibly separated from her parents for twenty-eight years for it be an obvious thorn in her side which refuses to turn free. Normally Emma doesn't even realize her reference unless it's pointed out to her, which Regina rarely does if only to keep the Savior in a good head space. When Emma thinks about her childhood, she turns surly and introspective, as if withdrawing from the world to retreat into habits she'd developed as a child in a dreadfully unfair system. So the people who care typically to spare Emma those painful memories change the subject as quickly as possible, Regina included.

That said, she probably shouldn't have smarted off, especially since Emma is one of precious few she truly trusts and she is loathe to prod at a sore spot bound only to torment her closest friend. But old insecurities have been creeping to the surface at once again being reminded of the price Emma paid for a happily ever after that wound up being not so happy and minus the ever after. Snark has been Regina's go-to coping mechanism since losing the ability to conjure fireballs and toss them at the heads of those who offend her, so that's what she instinctively falls back on.

To her credit, Emma doesn't even flinch at the cutting remark. "No, it doesn't. And don't do that."

"Do what, dear?" Regina smiles innocently at Emma's deep frown.

"Try to rile me up to get me off topic 'cause you're a little uncomfortable," Emma says. As always, the woman is annoyingly perceptive, and Regina hates her for it. Sort of. Fact is, she also cherishes there being at least one person in the world who knows her so well and yet doesn't hold her imperfections against her. "Just admit it," Emma goes on, nonplussed by Regina's obstinance. "That girl already has you wrapped around her dainty little pinky finger. It's nothing to be ashamed about."

"I...I..." Emma quirks a knowing brow, and the denial dies on Regina's tongue before she can give it life through vocalization. She makes a noise of frustration at being forced to confront her feelings head on rather than bury them with some lame excuse to revisit them at later date she knows very well won't ever come. Once again, Emma has boldly called her out on her bullshit, and it tastes just as awful as it always does.

"Oh, fine!" She spits out the words as if they're weaponized, and once they're free, they obliterate the gates holding in the rest of her complicated feelings, which come spilling out in gushing torrents. Arms wrapping around her ribs as if to hold herself together, she clutches white-knuckled at her blouse.

"I've only known Mireya less than a day and I already love her like she's my own," she says, hating how pathetic she sounds yet powerless to plug the flood of emotions. "I want to keep her, Emma. I want to keep her so much it hurts! But I can't because I'm not her birth mother. I didn't sacrifice to carry her in my body, nourish her, and protect her until bringing her into the world with blood, sweat, and tears. I didn't raise her, didn't teach her how to walk or talk or ride a horse. I wasn't there when she had her first kiss...if she's had her first kiss, and I'll not get to walk her down the aisle when she marries. All those are things my alternate has done or will do when I can't! And that drives me _insane_ with jealousy. It's not fair! After everything I've endured to be a better person, to earn my redemption, it's cruel for fate to tease me this way! She should be mine dammit. _Mine_!"

Emma says nothing, doesn't even have the decency to appear sympathetic to Regina's plight. She just sits there wearing that shit-eating grin of hers at having won the battle with such surprising ease.

" _Ugh_ , you're so obnoxious when you're right," Regina says, suddenly itching to slap that gloating expression right of her friend's face.

Emma heaves a half-hearted shrug. "Sorry. Just had to savor the moment while it lasts."

Regina sneers at her. "Well, enjoy it. You won't get another any time soon."

"Aww, don't be that way. I was just teasing. I'm really proud of you, actually." When Regina glares dubiously, Emma leans forward then and gestures idly in her direction. "No, I really am! That took a lot of guts for you to admit. It's good, though. Talking about stuff like that prevents us from doing stupid shit that only makes things worse."

Regina snorts for the second time. "Perhaps you ought to practice what you preach, Miss Swan."

Emma grins back at her. "Touché, Your Majesty."

They share a brief respite, content to relax back into their chairs and study one another in a decidedly platonic, unobtrusive way. There were some in Storybrooke who swore up and down that there was an element of homoeroticism in her interactions with Emma, even those sans linguistic exchange. Eye sex, they called it. Regina couldn't speak for Emma, but there was never any deliberate eye-sexing from her end. Not that Emma isn't gorgeous and worthy of being appreciated for all she has to offer. The Savior is everything anyone with working eyes and a functioning brain could ever want in a woman. It just so happens that Regina isn't into blondes. Never has been, for that matter. As Queen, she'd had sexual partners in every variety of skin and hair color known to man, but bright eyes and brown hair have always been what attracted her most. It makes a lot of sense in that regard for Ruby to be her True Love, as she fits the physical prototype Regina prefers as well as the characteristic one – that being a ruggedly tough, painfully sweet, steadfastly loyal, and earnest in a tolerable fashion that most people lack.

And of course, even had there been attraction to her son's other mother, Regina never would have acted on it. She values Emma's friendship far too much to risk it on a romance that in all likelihood would prove fleeting. As incendiary as their personalities are, any one of an assured abundance of heated confrontations might spark into a conflagration that would burn whatever they built to ashes. As much as Regina believes she and Emma could possibly share great passion should they further explore their unique bond, it would be, in her estimation, of the dangerous kind that would only hurt them both...and Henry by consequence. With their son caught between them, there is just no way Regina will ever risk it. Their friendship was special as it is, and is more than enough for her – an opinion Emma seems to share.

"So," Regina says a bit later, "you really don't think I'm being ridiculous feeling this way?"

Like the lovable, affectionate golden retriever she often reminds Regina of, Emma tilts her head and her eyes soften. Regina has to curtail the urge to scratch the blonde behind the ears.

"Lord, no," Emma says. "In my opinion, it's perfectly reasonable for you to feel connected to Mireya – not that my opinion means much. My experience was only vaguely similar. None of us have ever encountered a world like this, so I'm afraid in this case you're breaching new territory."

Regina makes a noise of agreement. "Tell me about it. I hardly know what to say or think when I'm around her. She's mine, but she's not. She's real, but is she _really_? To be frank, it's all I can do to keep my composure in her presence. Like a blind woman, I'm stumbling my way through the dark, hoping I don't trip up and make a disaster out of what may very well be our only way back home."

"For what it's worth, dear, you've acquitted yourself well thus far." Regina and Emma both jolt and turn in tandem to see the Queen occupying the chambers, having apparently magicked herself into the room without permission. She's smiling at them in that haughty way of hers, all show and little substance, and with absolutely no regret at the intrusion. "Good morning," her Majesty crows before either of her guests can muster a response. "I trust breakfast was to your liking? I hear it was specially prepared."

"It was great, thanks!"

Emma's effusive affability does not extend to Regina, who remains stoic in the face of her gracefully aging alternate. "Yes, it was quite appetizing. My compliments to the chef."

Regina is a little perturbed at that last part lacking any bite whatsoever. Avoiding throwing unearned compliments to the Queen is one thing, but giving praise to Mireya comes as easily as breathing. And it seems not even her compulsive defensiveness around the Queen can nip that impulse in the bud.

"Try not to sound too appreciative, dear," the Queen says sharply, as if unsure whether Regina's response was true or just a means to provoke her by insulting her daughter. The natural response of any version of Regina to reciprocate snark quickly follows. "I'd hate for you to ruin your reputation for the sake of your own flesh and blood."

The remark hits home. Regina winces subtly. Feeling hot anger rush into her cheeks, she glares at her counterpart. "Did you want something or did you merely drop by to antagonize me?"

Regina's irritation gets a slight chuckle out of the Queen. "While that is an infinitely entertaining pastime, I did come here for another reason. I would like you to take a walk with me." Where Regina raises a suspicious brow, Emma begins to rise. When the Queen notices, she wiggles her index finger at Regina. "Just her."

Emma plops back down with a sullen frown. "What am I supposed to do then? Sit around and twiddle my thumbs?"

"I don't know what that means," says the Queen, "but no. My chief military advisor, General Mulan, will be coming by shortly with detailed maps of the White Kingdom. As per the agreement to secure safe passage to your world, I'd like for you to brief her on your intelligence concerning the proposed territories. Unless you wish to renege on our deal?"

That knocks the wind out of Emma's sails. She raises her hands as if to stave off disaster. "No, no. I'll do it. You guys just go have your little chat. I'll wait right here."

Though the hasty concession is prudent, Regina is not feeling so accommodating. Not when she's still reeling from unloading so much emotional baggage regarding Mireya. That she still doesn't trust the Queen adds an extra layer to her hesitance. But none of that changes the Queen's possession of both the means and knowledge to secure safe passage out of this realm for herself and Emma. And so, while she has no alternative but to suffer the woman's presence until securing the way home, in the meantime she is in no hurry to spend any more time than required with this particular version of herself.

The Queen seems to have it all without having surrendered those aspects of her personality most find so undesirable. Regina would be lying if she said she didn't wish it was the same for her. Sometimes she misses the rush of spilling blood in combat and the thrill of performing great feats of magic for no other reason than she felt like reminding the unwashed masses and disrespectful nobles of just how superior she was. Being Mayor of Storybrooke is a far cry from the giddy euphoria that comes from wielding absolute authority over an entire nation. To become the hero her son needed and she'd convinced herself she ought to be to fit in with his newly extended family, she'd purposefully neglected that ego-driven ambition. And while that certainly made her a better person, it had yet to make her a happier one.

Yes, her son was now firmly on her side once again, and she'd obtained a fair few friends that she values more than she'd thought she could. But at what cost? Is the Regina they have so openly embraced the real Regina? Or is this Wish World version a more accurate representation of her true nature whereas the person she's allowed other people to mold her into is the false one? If true, she will have to confront the paradoxical truth that she's had to journey to a fake world to really find herself.

The sharp clearing of a throat cuts through Regina's reluctance to accept this potential revelation as anything more than her loneliness and regret influencing her thoughts. She glances up to find the Queen staring at her with an arched brow. The request for her to join their host was evidently not a request after all.

Regina stares back, being deliberately obtuse to delay the inevitable. "I was under the impression you would have a contract for us to sign this morning."

The Queen dismisses the idea with a wave. "That can wait. Right now, I want you to come with me." When Regina stubbornly refuses compliance, the Queen visibly grits her teeth. "I'll not repeat myself a third time."

"Fine. I'm coming," Regina says curtly. Any further resistance would likely incur the Queen's rancor, so she pushes her chair away from the table to stand.

"After you," says the Queen, gesturing toward the door as Regina approaches. That infuriating smile of hers is firmly in place, the one that silently conveys her total control over both Regina and the situation.

Regina returns the smile with a replica of her own as she passes by. "Naturally. As mother said, 'In this world, beauty will always go before age.'"

Leveling such a brazen insult is an act of defiance that has the Queen's eyes ever-so-slightly tightening around their lightly creased edges. But if her other self was truly offended, she manages to contain it admirably. She follows Regina out into the hallway without further comment.

They travel down the first few passages in a taut silence that the Queen only snaps when they round the corner exiting the Royal Wing of the palace.

"Now that we're away from prying ears, I'd like to make a proposition." The elder monarch speaks without missing a step. And as they pass by a row of fancy windows infused with intricate wrought-iron designs which overlook the courtyard, the silver streaks in her hair glint with the light streaming through.

Regina turns to study her alternate's profile. It's the closest proximity she's maintained to herself for any extended amount of time. Up close, there is no denying that her beauty is largely undiminished with advancing age. There are laugh lines at the corners of her eyes, of course, and a few incredibly faint wrinkles, but otherwise her skin remains enviably resistant to the ravages of time. Were it not for the silver-streaked hair, Regina wouldn't have pegged the woman as a day older than forty, which is a virtual impossibility.

When Regina cast the Dark Curse, she'd been a newly minted thirty-two. Since Emma is presumably her actual age in this realm, that means the Queen is at or nearing sixty-two. The math does not jibe at all with the relatively unscathed visage of her older self. No sixty-plus-year-old she has ever encountered appeared so immune to the weathering that erodes every woman's greatest weapon, her beauty. Not any that were wholly human anyway. Sprites, fairies, and elves, for instance, age so slowly that a thousand human lifetimes can pass before they show signs of degeneration.

Something Mireya had said rings in the back of Regina's mind then, that magic somehow kept her mother from aging as normal people. This contradicts what she had once been told by Rumplestiltskin. During one of her more curious streaks, she'd pressed him for information regarding such things as immortality, only to be rapidly shut down. He'd insisted with an atypical absence of flair that normal magicians, meaning those who learned magic but were otherwise ordinary people, derived no physical benefits from their energies, nor were such spells to maintain youth or delay the onset of age viable as they would sap all the caster's magic within a decade, leaving them once again vulnerable to the ravages of time. Naive fool that she was, she'd taken her mentor at his word, as magic was one area of her life in which he seemed unwilling to lie to get what he wanted. Though everything else was fair game, he'd wanted her to be a well-studied sorceress capable of casting his incredibly complex curse, and to that end he'd been painfully truthful during his lessons. But the evidence is clear in the Queen that he'd withheld certain incredibly valuable knowledge, and that gnaws at her something awful.

Incendiary rage bubbles up that she has to tamp down immediately lest she lose control of her tongue or temper and ruin the fragile rapport with her alternate. Angering their host, protector, and opportunistic benefactor so soon would be the height of folly. To distract herself from Rumple's deceit, she contemplates the reason for the Queen's usage of such a spell. What cause could the woman possibly have to prolong her life when that would mean watching the gradual decay of her True Love and the child they'd miraculous created together. There was some variable she was missing to explain why her senior facsimile might employ such a dramatic means of stalling the natural course of a human lifespan.

Regina allows her brief introspection to end when the Queen loudly repeats the last part of her statement.

"Is that so?" she says, mind already derailed by thoughts of what awful things the Queen might want from her. Through gritted teeth, she adds, "I can hardly wait to hear it."

The Queen scoffs indignantly. "Oh, don't be snide. It's nothing untoward. I love myself, but not _that_ much." Regina rolls her eyes at the gross innuendo that is exactly the kind she would have utilized in another life. The Queen blatantly ignores the disgusted curling of her lips. "In all the excitement of your arrival yesterday, I forgot I am due today to perform a routine inspection of the garrison within the castle in addition to a few others in the vicinity. While I'm indisposed, I'd like for you to provide some company to my wife."

This surprises Regina so much that she halts her movements. "You want me to approach a woman who has every justifiable reason to hate me? A woman, I might add, who could tear me limb from limb should she so desire. I'd ask why, but the answer is starting to become obvious."

The Queen, having stilled when Regina did, emits a sound of utter frustration. "I assure you that I am not feeding you to the wolf, so to speak. Must you be so suspicious all the time?" When Regina arches a brow and gives the other woman a loaded look, the Queen sighs, as if all of the fight has been drained out of her. For the first time, at least in posture, she appears her age. "Right. You're me. Point taken. Listen," she goes on before Regina can get in a snippy retort, "you of all people know how miserable I was once was. Losing Daniel almost ended me. I thought revenge would keep me going, but when that failed, sorrow was only heaped upon sorrow." Her eyes dull here, and she averts her gaze as if to stare off into the distant memory of a harrowing time long past. "What I've never told anyone was that the day I met Red, I was ready to give up. I was heading to a clearing I'd seen in the distance so I could die with the sun on my skin. I had already collected enough baneberries to put a quick end to my miserable existence. Stumbling upon her little cabin along the way quite literally saved my life. And the love she showed me thereafter saved my soul."

Of all the things Regina expected to hear, this didn't even register on the remote fringes of her radar. It should have, though, when there was a time in her own life she'd contemplated suicide. Tinker Bell really had happened upon an accidental fall that fateful day, but what Regina hadn't told the bumbling fairy who would inadvertently lead her astray is that she wouldn't have minded to not be caught. At that point in her life, she was entertaining the idea of slitting her own wrists or throat multiple times per day. Any method, however unthinkable, to escape Leopold and his wretched urchin of a daughter seemed preferable to the ceaseless torment they daily visited upon her. Had it not been for Rumple offering her an alternative path soon thereafter, Regina is pretty sure she would have eventually made a sincere attempt upon what had up until that time been only morbid fantasies of a woman condemned to a slow death by attrition.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asks, not liking feeling sympathy for this version of herself who deserves the bounties of blessed life even less than she does.

The Queen turns liquid eyes back to Regina. "Because you need to understand that my happy ending can also be _yours_. I know our interactions to date haven't exactly framed it that way, but I do want that for you. However dissimilar we are in certain aspects, you're still me and I'm still you. I'd never wish for myself to be unhappy, so how can I do so for you?"

Regina briefly averts her eyes, swallowing thickly due to the knot of emotion clogging her throat and chest. "That's kind of you," she says, "but I don't see how you expect me to accomplish a happy ending for myself when you're well aware how fate actively works against us. I've tried and tried to find it, but my every attempt has fallen short."

"That's because you've been missing the key ingredient: Red. All you need to do is find her on your world and fate will take care of the rest. True Love matches are universal. That means they persist across the many parallel universes." Flabbergasted by this statement, Regina gasps aloud, causing the Queen's head to quirk curiously. "What? Didn't Rumple teach you about them?"

Regina shakes her head, eyes wide. "No, he didn't, which is strange."

Granted, modern physics allows for such a phenomenon, but the idea that there are multiple versions of herself out there is hard to fathom. And all of them with the same True Love? The very possibility seems ludicrous. Surely Rumple would have informed her of this.

 _Not so fast_ , Regina reminds herself, rewinding to thoughts she'd entertained mere moments ago. _If he didn't tell me I could slow down aging, is it really so hard to believe he'd neglect to mention this?_ It wasn't. Could he have known about Red all along and kept the information from her so as to maintain control of his new pupil? Regina wouldn't put it past Rumple to play such games with her life when, through a decade long series of lessons and deals, he had so callously manipulated her into murdering her own father to cast a spell meant to ultimately achieve his goals rather than hers. The bastard probably had a good laugh at her expense when she'd fallen in love with Robin, knowing how the hand of fate would intervene to cut that romance tragically short.

True Love couples are perpetually attracted through various incidents meant to open their eyes to their linked destinies. And once they've been ensnared by mystical bonds of that supernatural force, there is no power of nature or man or magic capable of keeping them apart. That much, Rumple _had_ taught her, and she'd watched the lesson play out the hard way with Snow and Charming. No matter what she did, what spells she conjured to keep them apart, they kept being inexorably drawn toward one another by the invisible cosmic strings inextricably linking them.

It was a principle of True Love that obstacles keeping a couple apart, be it other partners or enchantments or physical distance, are temporary at best and at worst, result in tragedy for those both inside and outside the pairing. Only agony can result from any attempts to fight the connection, thus the delightfully sinister essence of the Dark Curse, which programmed True Love couples to resist their soul-deep predilection for one another. She'd watched with barely restrained glee as Snow read books to a comatose Charming, then patted his hand before leaving as if he were any other random stranger. It hadn't occurred to her then that they were defying the programming without even being cognizant of what they were doing. All she could see was how miserable Snow was, how empty her life was as a dowdy schoolteacher with few if any prospects in the love department. Mary Margaret Blanchard and David Nolan were the polar opposites of their true selves, and even after David woke up from his coma, Regina delighted in the pain they wrought upon each other and those they cared about while navigating their impossible-to-deny attraction. That Kathryn, a decent woman who never once was anything but kind and considerate to Regina, got caught in the crossfire was of no concern in the grand scheme of things. At that time, no one save Henry was immune from her toxic enjoyment to visit despair upon others.

But should the accuracy of what she's learned about herself here be somehow confirmed, it would mean that Robin's death, and perhaps even Daniel's, was at least partially her own fault. That she'd unwittingly subjected herself to the same pain she'd condemned her enemies to. Falling in love with a stable boy had merely been a detour on the road leading to Ruby, which meant Daniel was always going to die. It was a hard enough pill to swallow when not taking into account how the eventual objective of that calamity, her introduction to Red, was subsequently bungled by a fairy who was supposed to be helping her instead of setting her up for future anguish. Meanwhile Robin's death, she infers, is her punishment for having let Ruby walk away without addressing the obviously mutual attraction between them.

And there had been attraction, of that she has no doubt. Ruby wasn't exactly subtle in the way she'd stare at Regina's ass as she walked away, while for her part, Regina had thought Ruby to be the most interesting person she'd ever met who just so happened to be the most gorgeous. She just hadn't wanted to admit such a thing when she'd considered Ruby an enemy for her unflinching allegiance to Snow. Furthermore, she didn't appreciate how she felt whenever she entertained ideas of enticing Ruby into her bed. Thoughts of Graham or any of the other lovers she let pleasure her didn't make her tummy swirl with warmth and the tips of her toes and fingers tingle with anticipation. Imaging maneuvering Ruby into compromising positions right there in the Diner did, though, and that scared the hell out of her.

All things considered, she is becoming increasingly convinced that the Queen's narrative is reliable as well as applicable to her own life. The elder woman appears so certain of her claims that, even if it's because the woman has simply duped herself into believing this theory as some sort of misguided affirmation of her relationship with Red, Regina believes her. And yet she has to wonder as to why she's just now hearing about this evidently profound validation of the concept of True Love.

"Even more strange, though," she says a moment later, "is why you went through that whole charade when we met just to dump all of this on me now."

A weak smile turns up the Queen's painted lips. "I couldn't very well go and reveal all my secrets to total strangers, now could I? Even if one of them is me. For all I knew, you were here because you lost your Red and wanted to steal mine away." Regina flinches as if struck, and not due to the absurdity of the accusation. Rather, it hit the mark, just on the wrong target. It hasn't been Red she's been thinking about stealing. "Oh, don't look so offended. It's happened before," the Queen then says, having luckily misinterpreted Regina's reaction.

Now Regina's inherent curiosity kicks in. "You mean I'm not the first of... _us_...you've encountered?"

Rather than answer immediately, the Queen gestures down the hall, a silent wish for them to resume their journey. Regina nods, and then falls in beside her as she begins striding towards the next intersection.

"You are the first I've met in the flesh," the Queen says as they traverse the winding corridors. "I'm referring to what I saw in a vision shortly after waking Red from her sleeping curse. That happens to True Love couples, you know? Especially ones as deeply connected as Red and I. Our dreams bleed across the thin veneer separating one reality from another. It's all very complex. I scoured the realms to procure this knowledge, but I shant bore you with details. In time, you'll discover on your own."

Regina averts her eyes as she rubs at her forehead. "I highly doubt that." It's a castaway comment she mutters under her breath. But apparently in addition to her astonishingly slow aging, the Queen also has incredibly keen hearing.

"Explain."

The Queen's imperious demand startles Regina, and she glances up to see the imperious monarch staring at her with sharp chocolate eyes that are tinged with hints of gold. She suddenly remembers something Mireya had said, how her mother hadn't been 'turned' until after she was born, which explains why her faintly spoken words had been overheard. Her Wish Realm self isn't just a sorceress, but a werewolf, just like Mireya! Perhaps, she thinks, that is the source of the woman's abiding youth.

"For argument's sake, let's pretend I believe all of this," Regina says in response, still as in awe as she was yesterday that a version of her is a werewolf. An actual, real, lycanthrope! How intriguing! She wants to toss a thousand questions at the Queen, but holds her tongue because not only would it not be welcome, but it would be rude. Also, it would be a deflection the Queen wouldn't appreciate. So Regina holds back her curiosity in favor of elaborating upon the not insignificant problem keeping her from realizing for herself what the Queen already has. "There is a major hindrance to me doing anything at all about it. My Red...I mean, the Red on my world, already has a True Love. Her name is Dorothy Gale."

The Queen's eyes narrow. "How do you know they have True Love?"

Regina rolls her eyes as if the answer were obvious. Because it is. As the Queen should know from personal experience. "Red woke her up with True Love's kiss."

The Queen scoffs and waves her dismissal. "It wasn't True Love's kiss. I can tell you that right now."

The certitude of the statement clashes with what Regina knows to have happened from more than one source. Snow had been there in person, and then Henry wrote about it. Both are witnesses of unimpeachable character.

"Of course it was!" she says. "Dorothy was put under a sleeping curse by my own sister, and I ought to know only one magic can break that insidious curse."

The Queen hums thoughtfully. She taps her chin a few times before her eyes spark with realization. "That's not necessarily true. Not if there is a living Author who has betrayed the code and written a happy ending where there wasn't supposed to be one." Regina blanches at that. Dread coils in her stomach. _Oh, Henry, what have you done?_ A condescending expression dances across the Queen's features. "Oh, my. I can see I've struck a nerve. There is an Author in your world, and you know them."

"Yes. He's my son." Regina's throat is tight as she speaks, but her motherly compulsion to defend her son forces the words out. "But he wouldn't do that! After the previous Author's abuses, he swore to never use the pen for anything save recording history."

"I'm guessing he isn't even a man yet judging by how you advocate for him as if he is a child." The Queen appears to grow even more condescending, if that's possible. "Like a mother should, of course."

Regina bristles with indignation that she knows is misplaced. "He's just a teenager."

The excuse sounds as pathetic as it is when Regina can't help but feel in her gut that Henry has done something very wrong. It wouldn't be the first time. This is the same boy who's run away from home because a book of fairy tales told him his mother was an evil sorceress who'd cast a curse upon his family that separated his mother from her grandparents. Never mind it turned out to be true, for such a young boy to abscond from the only home he'd ever known and a mother who loved him more than life on the word of what was then only a fictional tale displayed a terrifying propensity for recklessness. If Henry thought it was the right thing to do, there is little doubt in her mind that he would write a happy ending for someone without considering whether or not he _should._

The Queen's expression shifts then. All judgment fleeing, she sighs and then gives Regina a tight smile. "Well, there you have it. He's far too young to have inherited such a weighty mantle. He can hardly be blamed for making a few mistakes. Sad, though, that one of them has cost his own mother such precious time with her True Love."

Regina can't argue with the former point. Mature as he is for his age, Henry is too young to have such responsibility thrust upon him. Far too young, for sure, to be expected to perform his duties flawlessly.

"Even if he did as you say," she says, grudgingly willing to concede the possibility, "he didn't mean to hurt me. That's not who Henry is!"

The Queen holds her hands up in a show of apology. "I'm sure you're right. But as I said, he's young. He can't possibly have calculated the potential repercussions for writing True Love for someone out of his own will. All the same, his mistake is going to make the road ahead of you that much harder."

Regina deflates, all the fighting _whooshing_ out of her body right along with her breath. Vague as the statement had been, Regina understands what her alternate is getting at, and the point is painfully valid. Ruby being in a committed relationship is going to pose a serious roadblock to any plans of realizing their alleged True Love.

She scrubs a weary hand over her face. Her lack of sleep the previous night has finally caught up. "I know. Ruby...that's the name Red goes by in my world...she loves big. And from what Snow has said, she's happy with Dorothy. I don't know if I can play the role of homewrecker. I tried once with Charming, and that failed spectacularly."

The Queen doesn't bother to conceal her distaste for the idea. "You tried to seduce Charming?"

"Unlike you, I was never able to escape Rumple's designs on my life. I cast his Dark Curse, and at the time they were unaware of who they were while I was not." Hoping the elder Regina doesn't press her further about that time in her life, she proceeds quickly. "The idea was to make him mine, then rub it Snow's face. Even while under a Curse, she loved him. But he rebuffed my advances."

"Not surprising," says the Queen. "The man is obnoxiously devoted. I've yet to understand what he sees in the brat."

The disparagement would have prickled Regina's sensibilities even if the Snow and Charming of this world hadn't died by her hand. By sheer persistence, Snow has endeared herself to Regina all over again, almost as if they are slowly reclaiming the relationship they should have had were it not for a heartless mother and an overly doting widowed father conspiring to take away her free will. Yet, even though it's been a long time since she thought of Snow as an outright enemy, she's surprised at how angry she becomes hearing her alternate's simmering derision.

Squaring her shoulders, visage thunderous, she levels hard eyes on the Queen and says, "He sees a woman that refused to give up on me even when I'd already given up on myself."

Hate-filled brown eyes widen into saucers. "You talk as if you and Snow are friends."

Regina is curt with her reply. "That's because we are. Time and time again, she's extended the olive branch in my direction when all I've ever offered her is the sword. Even after the Curse broke that kept her from her family for twenty-eight years, she supported my decision to reform myself for the sake of my son. We've had our fair share of hiccups along the way, but for the most part, she's remained on my side when she had every reason not to. Like I said, she doesn't give up."

"I'll concede to her stubbornness. But as to her not giving up on us...well, that went a bit differently here." The Queen's forehead wrinkles with barely restrained outrage. "When she found out about Red and I, she confronted me. Face-to-face, she accused me of seducing Red to get to her. As if Red was not worth loving for her own merits. I was incensed and hurt, less for my own sake than for Red's, and for a moment my control slipped. Had it not been for Red intervening, I would have crushed Snow's heart that very day. After that, she stayed away from me, which I'm sure you picked up on during my exchange with my wife the day we met."

Regina winces at hearing how Snow reacted to the Queen's relationship with Red. She'd be lying if she said that didn't play a factor in her decision to keep Ruby at arms length. A part of her, however small and disgusting it was at the time, knew how Ruby longed for validation from her best friend. Had they become involved before the Curse broke, the breaking may well have damaged Ruby's friendship with Snow, which would have been devastating to a woman who left everything behind her to hitch her cart to the wagon of an outlaw princess on the run from a monarch hellbent on her destruction. Red's fidelity was always one of her strongest traits, and it would have been agonizing for Regina to watch it be used against her as punishment for making what the heroes perceived as the wrong choice with her heart.

"I remember," she says, thinking of how pained Red appeared at the mention of her strained friendship with the Wish World Charmings. She feels such sympathy for the woman, and yet just as much for her alternate self. Red isn't the only one who lost something that day, or the potential for something anyway. "I can understand your reaction, but at the same time, I'm sorry it went down that way. You've missed out on a lot of love. Red isn't the only one who does that big."

The Queen shrugs, unaffected by the idea she'd missed out on anything without Snow in her life. "I didn't need it. I had all the love I needed in Red. And when Mireya was born, I lost what little interest I had left in the opinions of others. My girls are my happiness. I don't want anything else."

Now Regina is beginning to see why the Queen is so insistent upon her believing in the yarn she's been spinning – and quite believably at that. "Is that why you're so desperate for me to see what I'm missing by being without my Red?"

"Yes," the Queen says bluntly. She quirks her head to the side, briefly studying Regina as they meander down another hallway, before launching into a second and equally memorable speech. "You may find contentment in your occupation, or your friends, or with being the hero to which you seem to aspire. You may find love and purpose in your son. But you'll never be truly happy, truly fulfilled without the other half of yourself.

"By your own admission you've tried everything to satisfy what's been absent from your heart since Daniel was so cruelly ripped away from you. Believe me, you're not alone in that. I did the same, and with every bit as much fervor. There were certain balms I stumbled upon which dulled the ache, made the emptiness bearable, and there were even some things that temporarily plugged the gaping wound. The problem was the fit was imperfect, and thus always temporary. You see, that hole in our hearts is Red-shaped. No one else can fill it.

"I know how skeptical you are, and that my word will never suffice. But I promise, if you keep an open mind and an open heart as you spend time with her, you'll see I'm telling the truth. Before I ever discovered we had True Love, I knew there was something different about her, that there was something special about the way we interacted. It was as if there was some invisible cords tethering us, and the longer I was with her, the more they became entangled. Eventually, I could close my eyes and feel her, even when she was miles away in the forest scavenging or hunting or fishing or trapping. That's when I knew that I was only hurting myself – and her – by resisting what was building between us. Our connection is not one forged by proximity, but inherent to our very beings. I firmly believe that I was born to love her, and that she was born to love me. Together, our love is perfected. And you can have that...if you'll just give it a chance."

As if by some inhumanly perfect plan or by a stroke of dumb luck, they arrive at their destination at the precise moment the Queen finishes her remarkable monologue.

"So." The woman with the familiar face and salt-and-pepper hair turns her lips upward in an encouraging smile. "What do you say?"

"I say..." Regina pauses, steps forward to lay her hand upon the door separating her from this world's version of her True Love. She glances back at the Queen over her shoulder. A sudden wave of acceptance washes over her, and she knows what she has to do. She pushes the door open. "I say, I'll see you when you return. Have a safe trip."

The Cheshire grin she receives in response gives her all the courage she needs to step through. And with a deep breath, Regina squares her shoulders, then strides with steely resolve toward her destiny.


	6. A Kiss Ain't Just a Kiss

**Chapter 6 -** A Kiss Ain't Just a Kiss

Upon entry into the garden, Regina roves her eyes over the area. As she searches for her charge, she admires the marvelous feat of horticultural engineering she's stepped into.

What once was an enormous open courtyard has been totally transformed into a miniature example of how she imagines the Hanging Gardens of Babylon must have looked. Along the outer wall of the castle, a cast iron trellis has been erected against which are anchored tiered platforms arranged on a gentle slope containing a multitude of plants and flowers too numerous to identify. The trellis is crawling with ivy in some places, morning glories in others, and a variety of colorful clematis species while the plants upon the platforms are color coordinated and their containers etched with vibrantly pulsing runes.

Regina remembers studying these runes with Rumplestiltskin. Those represented are all crafty wards woven into the arrangement to protect the delicate, and no doubt valuable, organisms from the harsh climate of the Enchanted Forest. A wise, if not necessary, implementation considering the garden is not enclosed, but exposed to the elements. Most of the plants within it are ornamental, but a number of them are of use in potion craft and therefore incredibly valuable, thus the wards to guard them not only against the weather but against pests and sabotage. Seeing as the plants are brimming with brilliant vitality, the wards are doing their jobs splendidly, and as winter is rapidly setting in Regina assumes the entire garden has been likewise protected; perhaps, she muses, with runes upon the outer face of the trellises.

From the castle wall, the trellises extend perpendicularly outward all the way to the edge of the courtyard, some fifty or more yards away. Tall marble columns dot the trellis arms, at least thirty feet high, between which more graduating platforms are erected that contain yet more elaborate floral designs and upon which is resting another enormous trellis serving as a roof. Gorgeous wisterias of subtle lavenders, whites, and reds hang from this living ceiling, so thick that they would blot out the sun were it not for square holes cut into the framework on even intervals to provide light to the plants below.

At the far end of the gardens is a viewing window stretching the entire width of the outer trellis wall that overlooks the sea surrounding the little island upon which the citadel was erected. In the northeastern corner of the viewing window stands a large pedestal upon which a strange crystalline plant is displayed; the Ice Lillies sent by Elsa of Arendelle that Mireya mentioned the day before. Upon their wispy silver stems protrude delicate glassy petals which gleam and shimmer in the afternoon sunshine. Regina is arrested by their simplistic beauty, and as she pictures Elsa in her mind, she thinks they rather reflect their creator.

Within the inner courtyard a smattering of trees are also featured, artfully spaced and each bearing a different fruit. In the exact center of the diverse orchard is a tree Regina needs little more than a glimpse to recognize. It is the very same one her father gifted her when she was but a child, a sapling from his homeland that they'd planted together and under whose boughs she'd had her first kiss with Daniel. Even while she was locked within her gilded cage by Leopold and later on having escaped imprisonment was wreaking havoc upon the realm she'd ensured her beloved apple tree was dutifully attended. Here, it is not only intact but thriving, having never been so large, it's leaves so green, or the honey crisps hanging from its branches looking more delectable.

Around the base of the apple tree are four long marble benches, each one facing a cardinal direction. Regina spots Red perched upon the eastern-facing one, leaning forward with her legs crossed at the ankles and her bare arms extended so that her hands are palm down facing backward on the surface. Her face is tilted upward with her eyes shut. Directly overhead one of the square openings allows life-giving sunlight into the garden which shines down upon Red, illuminating her with a halo of gold as if she were not at all of this world but some mystical creature from heaven – perhaps a goddess who has deigned to inhabit fleshly form. She's the most stunning woman Regina has ever laid eyes on.

This morning the Queen consort is arrayed in a lavender pagan-style gown with gold accents along the collar and hemlines. The garment's deep v-neck is not unlike the dress she'd worn the day before, as it leaves generous swathes of pale flesh exposed to Regina's greedy eyes. Unlike yesterday, however, when she'd been too stupefied to catch anything but the cautious skepticism on Red's face upon being introduced to her wife's doppelganger, she at once notices the swell of modest breasts along with a tantalizing hint of the defined lines of abdominal muscles which, far too soon for Regina's taste, dip below the fabric concealing a deliciously lithe frame from view. The sight generates an unusual stirring low in her belly that spreads quite alarmingly southward.

To rein in her body's traitorous, unwelcome reaction, she sweeps her eyes over the rest of the simple yet elegant ensemble. Red's slim waist is cinched by a golden chain belt studded with an oval chalcedony engraved with a rearing horse, marking the item and likely the gown it so splendidly complements as a gift from the Queen. She also wears an exquisite gold necklace whose pendant is shaped as a crescent moon cradling an opalescent gemstone. There are no ostentatious rings decorating her long fingers, only a simple wedding band upon the ring finger of her left hand which gleams in the sunlight filtering through the flowery canopy above. The ring serves as a reminder that in the Wish World, this gorgeous woman is her her wife, whereas her own Red is currently living a world away and sharing her love with a woman she isn't supposed to be with. The idea of Ruby doing... _those things_...with Dorothy Gale sobers Regina up with breathtaking haste. It also sparks a burning jealousy in her gut that she has no right to.

Sighing at her own pettiness, she lifts her eyes, and the expression of serenity upon Red's face mesmerizes her. As if parched in a lonely arid desert, she drinks in the way the light plays across the woman's absurdly attractive features, highlighting finely arched brows, a perfectly sloped nose, invitingly full lips, and a jawline fit for the pages of fancy fashion magazines the world over. Framing in that handsome visage, Red's famously rich hair has been left down in tumbling curls save for one long braid at the temple with orchids plaited into it that match the lavender shade of her gown. Even at her least generous, Regina has always considered Ruby to be extraordinarily beautiful, but this morning with the heavens shining down upon her, Red is positively and radiantly angelic.

"What are you doing here?" Red asks without opening her eyes. Her serenity evaporates in an instant. When Regina flounders at having been caught staring, Red opens her eyes to shoot her a nasty glare. It seems, as expected, the assassination of Snow and Charming hasn't been forgotten or forgiven.

Regina falters, that steely resolve she'd entered with petering out with a puny whimper. It hadn't lasted very long. "I was asked to keep you company," she says as she resumes a more cautious entry into the garden proper. Red tenses at her approach, so she loiters just out of reach. Best to be careful around a werewolf who has every reason to tear her throat out and undoubtedly could do just that if she wished.

"Well, I don't want it," Red says brusquely, "so you can leave. I'll tell Regina you dispensed your obligation."

The dismissal is not unexpected, but the absence of any frustration from Red toward her spouse is.

"You're not angry at her for this misguided attempt at reconciling us?" Regina asks.

Red stares at her as if the question were ridiculous. "Why would I be? Her interference isn't exactly appreciated, but she means well. She's seen your pain, that you are alone and lacking love in your life. She wants you to get a chance to know me."

Regina quirks a sable brow. "And that would accomplish...what exactly?"

"That depends upon us, I suppose," Red says, some of her aggravation bleeding out of her as she sighs. "She believes you deserve a chance to know how beautiful your life could be if you let me – my other self, that is – be a part of it. And she's hoping I'll give that to you. I don't see how I can after what you did to my friends, but I don't fault her for wanting it for you."

Regina winces at the mention of her latest sin. She'd snuffed out two lives without so much as a blink of the eye, heedless of the repercussions to countless people she could care less about and a handful she most certainly does. Bile swirls in the pit of her stomach. However much she's insisted she is without regret over her extreme action to shock Emma out of her magical stupor, and to be sure she has none whatsoever, she can't help but feel guilty. It had been the right choice by virtue of success alone, but that doesn't mean there weren't other options; they just hadn't been good ones – that or they required expenditures of more time and resources than she was willing to commit within a world she had been absolutely convinced wasn't real. Now that she's beginning to doubt that assumption, she's left with yet another stain on her conscience via the callous extinguishing of two innocent souls who just so happened to be carbon copies of her own friends.

Swallowing thickly, Regina nods at Red's aptly stated point. "I understand your reticence where I'm concerned. I've earned your distrust. But I also understand the Queen's motive for manipulating this little get together, and quite against my better instincts find myself intrigued by what she's trying to sell."

The corners of Red's lips turn up in what might pass for a smile had Regina not known how bitter the woman is toward her. "Is that what you call her?"

Regina frowns slightly at the vague comment. "Pardon me?"

Red's smile grows and her eyes take on a gentle luster that was altogether lacking before. Her bitterness seems to be fleeing rapidly, which is a relief. "' _The Queen_ ,'" Red says, parroting Regina's designation of her alternate self. "Is that how you refer to my Regina in your head to avoid confusion?"

"Oh, I see," says Regina, feeling herself flush. She isn't quite sure if she's being mocked, so she readjusts her posture by straightening her back and crossing her arms beneath her breasts. "As a matter of fact, it is. Why? Should I choose another moniker?"

"Not at all. I just think it's amusing because she calls you the same thing."

"She does?"

"Mmhmm." Red pauses then, eyes still twinkling as she studies Regina for the second time in as many days. In the throne room, the perusal had been academic, assuaging a curiosity over a quirk of nature arrived upon her doorstep. But now it seems deeper, as if she's searching for something. What that something is, Regina can't say, but she does know that the subtle widening of Red's eyes and the slight catch of her breath indicates she'd found what she was looking for. "Can I ask you a question?" Red asks a moment later, still appearing affected by what she'd seen. When Regina nods her approval, Red goes on. "Why did you do it?"

Regina cocks her head to the side, forehead furrowed in feigned confusion. "I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific. I've done a lot of things, many of them inadvisable."

Her decision to act obtuse is calculated for effect. She wants to draw Red out without prompting a return of the anger she'd only just let ebb away. If she'd used this tactic on the Queen, it wouldn't have worked, but she figures that Red is used to dealing with her tactics and would therefore be more willing to engage with her if she utilizes the familiar. To her immense satisfaction, the gambit pays off.

Biting at her lip, Red ducks her eyes to her lap where she is worrying her hands together. "Why did you kill them?" she says, then raises her gaze, green eyes portraying her sadness, yet free of the spiteful accusation Regina saw in them the previous evening. "Couldn't you have done something else to free Princess Emma? Cast a spell or something... _anything_ that didn't involve killing?"

Due to Red's plaintive expression and her own roiling guilt, Regina's chest tightens until she finds it uncomfortable to breathe. Nonetheless, she forces a lungful of air down and then releases it slowly. Red deserves the truth, so that's what she'll get, even if it results in a complete reset of the tentative progress they have just made.

"I'm assuming you're one to appreciate frankness, so I'll be blunt," she says, hating how weak her voice sounds. But there's just something about Red that makes her vulnerable on so many levels that she can't even begin to sort through them all. _Best to just tear off the band-aid_ , she thinks. "It's as I said yesterday, I did it because it was expedient. I felt I had exhausted my other options."

"You'll forgive me if I didn't catch your explanation the first time. I was in shock."

Regina gives Red a tight smile, thankful there wasn't any real vitriol in the chiding response. "Of course you were. However strained things were between you and the Charmings, they were your friends and you loved them. You have every right to your pain and anger. For what it's worth, though, I'm sorry I had to do it. I wish there had been a different way, but from my perspective, there simply wasn't. It was either kill them to break Emma out of her spell or spend months or even years of my life searching for a magical cure in a world that isn't my own where my best friend doesn't know me and my son loathes me. I acted pragmatically, as admittedly awful as that sounds."

Red's face turns increasingly sour as Regina speaks, and for a second after she's finished she worries that she's about to be raked over the proverbial coals. Or maybe literally if she's managed to offend her hostess badly enough. Accustomed as she is to thinking of this woman as a commoner, and in both personas, Wish World Red is anything but. In many kingdoms the Queen consort is an empty title, but from what Regina has gathered from her doppelganger, from Mireya, and from listening closely to idle conversation amongst the staff, Red is far more than a pretty piece of arm candy for the Queen. This Queen consort makes meaningful decisions about official foreign and domestic policy, is actively involved with military affairs, and is entrusted with the administration of the kingdom in the Queen's absence.

Regina is fairly confident that Red not being elevated to a parallel Queenship upon her marriage was a decision Red made on her own without the benefit of outside pressure from her spouse or the haughty nobles who no doubt would have balked at a peasant being made the equal of a true, blue-blooded royal. Her suspicions are based, as mentioned, on things she's heard from reliable sources, but also on opinions she herself holds. Nobility has never meant much to her in the grand scheme of things. Granted, she'd learned to enjoy the benefits that come along from belonging to the royal family, however distant her branch was, but she'd been ready to leave it all behind for Daniel. Her stable boy's love had meant more to her than a crown or any wealth one could provide, and she imagines her other self felt the same for the peasant girl who'd so selflessly saved so wretched an exemplar of humanity as was the Evil Queen.

That Red would turn down the power attached to being a fully entitled Queen speaks to admirable qualities not many possess. One is a sincere aversion to power born of humility and mingled with an awareness of what it can do to people. The former Regina never had and the latter she'd never bothered to learn until it was too late. But also, she gets the sense that Red did not want to diminish the Queen's accomplishments, that she'd been content to let her Regina take all of the glory because her pride is invested in others rather than herself, and none more so than her wife. That level of devotion is something Regina has only experienced twice, once from her father whose every joy was found in his beloved daughter and the second time in Daniel who had seemed content to help a young, sheltered aristocrat like her experience true happiness. That she could have that again fills her with precariously balanced measures of dread and excitement that battle for dominance without either gaining significant purchase. An emotional stalemate. How very much like her.

"I...I..." Red begins to speak, drawing Regina from her thoughts. The brunette immediately falters into a forlorn sigh, then brushes a hand through her enviable locks. "How can I hate you for something _my_ Regina would have done. 'Cause she would have. Done exactly what you did, that is. And probably would have apologized without really apologizing in the exact same way, too. I have to say, that infuriates me to no end."

"I'm sorry." Regina says it teasingly, which draws another pseudo-smile out of Red.

Shaking her head with longsuffering amusement, Red huffs out her retort. "Ass."

A wide grin spreads across Regina's lips at the opening she's been given to inject some levity into a thus far uneasy encounter. "I have one, yes, and I've been told it's magnificent."

Red groans at the off-color jest, but that quickly transitions into a chuckle that warms Regina's heart. "Well, I can't argue with that. It is one of your best features."

"Why, thank you, my dear," Regina says, suddenly bit by an urge to be playful in a way she normally squashes posthaste. And although it's a strange feeling, she's now relaxed enough around Red to roll with it. "My ass very much appreciates the complement."

That elicits a bark of laughter from Red that turns into a grin of her own showcasing her remarkable rows of pearly white teeth. Eyes twinkling with merriment, she says, "In that case, tell it I'm happy to be of service at any time... _Oh gods_ , that sounds so perverted!" And then she launches into a raucous bout of laughter that tickles Regina's own funny bone.

The resultant snort from Regina is so embarrassingly undignified that Red begins heehawing all the more, and the hilarity of it all sends Regina into her own hysterics. Cackling like a couple of maniacs, both are soon bent over at the waist with tears running down their cheeks as they clutch at their protesting stomachs. It's the most Regina has laughed in years.

"Well, I feel better," she says after finally calming down enough to talk. She wipes with her thumb at the tears of joy that have dampened her cheeks.

Red, also brushing at her own wet eyes, heaves a chuckling breath. "Me, too. I shouldn't be surprised that you can make me laugh just like she does."

Regina doesn't even balk at being compared to _her_. She's heard it so often by now that it should be grating at her nerves, and from just anyone else it probably would. But from Red she doesn't much mind, if only because it's undoubtedly meant as praise rather than criticism.

To deflect from how she's flushing from the complement, she clears her throat and says, "Well, we are cut from the same cloth, me and her."

"That you are." By now, Red's infectious amusement has morphed into a tender smile. "No matter how bad my day has been or how mad I get at her at times, she has this way of making it all better with one of her famously deadpan jokes. I guess that's why I can't stay mad at her. Or you." Her expression takes on a grave tint that Regina can tell is only half-serious. "Now, I'm not saying I forgive you just yet. But...at least I understand why you did it." Pausing, she nibbles at her lip and briefly averts her eyes before returning them. Appearing a bit sheepish, she adds, "And in the spirit of reconciliation, I may have told a little white lie earlier. While I really didn't hear much of what you said in the throne room, Regina sat me down later that night to explain what happened."

"Why the ruse then?" Regina asks, her mood dampened at being manipulated.

The change in her demeanor has no effect on Red, who shrugs then says, "Maybe I just needed to hear it from you so that I could watch your body language...read your eyes. They never lie. Not to me."

"And? What did they tell you?"

"That you're being honest."

Regina squares her shoulders at being vindicated and gives Red a boastful smirk. "Well, there you have it." The smug response is met with a scoff-slash-eye roll combination that Red has no doubt absorbed via mannerism-related osmosis from the Queen. It's Regina's patented move, after all. "You know," she then says, dialing back the smugness, "if only for your sake, and for the sake of young Prince Henry, I really do wish I could change what happened. It pains me that I hurt you."

Red softens visibly at the admission. "I know you would. And believe it or not, it helps that you feel that way."

"Does it really?"

Regina hadn't meant to sound so doubtful, but how can she not be? If someone had killed her closest friends, even under justifiable circumstances, no amount of expressed regret could sway the fires of her vengeance. Then again, Red isn't her, which is probably a good thing considering she would like to keep her head right where it is on her shoulders. She shudders at the thought of what the Queen would have done if it was Red, or God forbid Mireya, that she had killed to awaken Emma. She'd likely have been reduced to a pile of ashes by now, and that only after being released from pain being visited upon her the likes of which she doesn't want to imagine. Torture was one area of expertise in which she could get deplorably creative.

 _Good thing, indeed,_ she thinks, then listens with some astonishment at what Red says next.

"Yes! Of course it does!" Red springs from her seat, all earnest in her conviction. "Intent matters. How else do you think I can love a woman who still says and does terrible things every now and then? My wife may occasionally act in ways I don't approve, but she only does so because she loves me, and Mireya, and this kingdom too much to let anything stand in the way of protecting us. Sure, her way of showing that isn't always the best, but she tries the only way she knows how." She then gives Regina a pointed look. "To be honest, that kinda seems to just be a 'Regina' thing. Doesn't it, _Regina_?"

Hearing Red call her by her name sends a thrill down Regina's spine, though the feeling is quickly smothered by an overwhelming sense of gratitude and a deep affection that shouldn't be possible considering how briefly she's known Red. But facts are irrelevant to the heart, and there is no denying how incredible it feels to know there is someone capable of knowing her down to the very core of her being, someone who has seen the rotten parts of her soul without being scared off, someone who doesn't just love her in spite of her flaws but actually loves her _for_ them. That level of acceptance is a rare gift that Regina would probably kill to have, and that her alternate actually has it makes her more than a little jealous.

 _The Queen,_ she thinks, _would be an absolute fool to take this enchanting creature for granted._

"I suppose it is," she says aloud, unable to modulate her awe. "Thank you for understanding me so well."

Red beams a smile at her that would rival the sun for luminosity. "You're welcome," she says, then extends her hand toward Regina. "Come sit with me?"

Rather than immediately take the proffered appendage, Regina stares at it for a few seconds as if it were a loaded gun. _May as well be for how dangerous it would be to accept_ , she thinks. Just the same, she forces herself to reach for the hand of her True Love. _Another baby step_ , she thinks, hearkening back to Red's grand entrance into her life not long after she and Emma arrived at the Palace with Mireya.

She's wrong, though. It isn't a baby step, but a quantum leap. The instant her skin meets Red's for the first time, her eyes slide shut to savor the sensations being provoked, and as Red threads their fingers together, a pleasant buzz of energy passes through the barrier of Regina's flesh into her arm where it surges up to settle in her chest. In its wake, euphoria spreads through her heart and fills the marrow of her bones, warming her up from the inside out. She can't help be astonished by how perfectly their hands fit together, as if they were made one for the other and no one else.

Whenever she'd held Robin's hand, the contact always felt a bit off. His hand was too rough, too big, and his grip too firm, nothing like the well-worn gentleness she'd so appreciated in Daniel's. Red's hand reminds her very much of her stable boy's, calloused as it is from countless hours of manual labor, having come from an underprivileged background, and yet paradoxically soft. The pressure of the werewolf's grip is not too lose as to project weakness or too tight to overcompensate for some perceived inadequacy or to assert dominance, but just right.

 _No_ , she amends to herself, _Red herself is just right._ _Perhaps she ought to have been Goldilocks instead of the Big Bad Wolf._

Upon opening her eyes, Regina finds Red gazing at her with such unveiled adoration that her breath catches and her heart stutters. Stricken as she is, she has no strength to resist when Red pulls at her hand, then gently leads her over to the bench where they sit, Red all smooth motion and flawless posture whereas Regina is operating on autopilot, her movements stiff but effective.

Once they are settled, Red shifts to an angle where they can look at each other without uncomfortably craning their necks. "Can I ask you another question?" she says a bit hesitantly. Their hands are still joined and she begins rubbing her thumb against the back of Regina's hand.

It takes a few seconds for Regina to find her voice; the feel of Red's tender gesture is so incredible her brain temporarily short circuits. "You may," she says through the fog of wonderment, her voice a little hoarse from emotion. "For you I appear to be an open book."

Red flutters her lashes prettily at that. Tucking her lip between her teeth, she prevaricates for a brief moment before spitting out her inquiry. "What happened to your... _me_? Did she die before you found one another?"

"No. She's still alive. I just..." Still a bit off kilter from the gentle brushing of Red's thumb, Regina stops to take a fortifying breath. "I only just found out about Tinker Bell's mistake. When I came here, I still believed Robin Hood was my True Love."

"Really? I imagine that's bound to make things awkward when you get home."

Regina needs no elucidation to recognize what Red is insinuating. Unfortunately, it is based on two incorrect assumptions. One that she's still with Robin, and two that Ruby is still living in Storybrooke.

"Not quite," she says, then sets about dispelling the first. "Robin died very recently. Of late I've been struggling to cope with letting him go. I think that's part of the reason I acted so rashly to wake Emma. And again, I'm sorry that I hurt you in the process, but not that I freed Emma. I did what I had to do. Like always."

Red stops her steady ministrations to squeeze Regina's hand. "I'm sorry for your loss." Regina nods her thanks, swallowing thickly. "I can imagine how that might have made you do things you might not have otherwise. That, and your resolve to do whatever is necessary, tells me so much about you, about how much you really are like my Regina. I think that's another reason she wanted us to spend time together, so I would see the similarities and maybe move past what you did...for her sake if not for yours."

"She just wants to know you're not going to leave her for still having dark impulses," Regina says, and the compulsion to defend her alternate self feels less weird than she'd anticipated. "I used to feel that way constantly when Robin was alive. I was always on edge, always afraid I would do or say something to drive him away. I've never had an easy time letting people love me. I've never really been easy to love for that matter."

A pained expression crosses Red's features that tells her she is well versed with this self-loathing that has made its home in the pit of Regina's stomach since she took her first innocent life. Not that she'd let herself acknowledge it at the time.

For the longest, she'd blatantly ignored what some may call her conscience. Yes, even as she was descending into madness, she'd known what she was doing was wrong, had been haunted by her villainy. At least for a time. Eventually that critically depleted part of her that remained adamantly innocent was poisoned by the touch of a man who disgusted her and the doe-eyed adoration of a girl she despised. Exposed to that seething cauldron of putrid infection, what innocence stubbornly clung to her tainted soul curled in on itself and withered until reduced to a rotting corpse which animated each time she closed her eyes.

In her dreams, that virtuous young thing she'd once been assumed her post as Regina's nocturnal accuser. Even at present that specter of who she once was often manifested in visions of her wailing over Daniel's dead body before abruptly turning baleful eyes upon her true self, the one really responsible for that unspeakable tragedy. And then with a puff of purple magic, there she would be: the Evil Queen in all her malefic glory, the darkness incarnate arrayed in sinfulness disguised as delicate lace and luxurious silk, coal-black eyes burning with a murderous rage hotter than a thousand suns; the personification of everything that she'd loathed about her mother into which she'd so enthusiastically allowed herself to be molded.

It would not surprise Regina to discover the Queen suffers similar terrors in her sleep that Red has to comfort her down from. And the thought of such tender dedication being expended upon her undeserving self – in whatever form that takes – is concurrently dismaying and reassuring.

"Well," Red says not two blinks of her lovely eyes later, "for however much it's worth, if he had left you, he wouldn't have deserved you." When Regina quirks a brow at that, Red narrows her eyes and wiggles the index of her free hand in Regina's general direction. "I know that look, and I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, ' _she can't possibly know how dark I am, can't possibly grasp the evil I've wrought. How can she when she's not tasted the darkness for herself?_ ' But that's where you're wrong. I _have_ tasted the darkness, and continue to for a week out of every month when my wolf surfaces. I know what it means to struggle against desires that are objectively wrong. I know how it feels to wrestle against urges to wantonly destroy things for the simple sake of perverse pleasure. It's why I can love her for who she is, not who I want her to be, and she does the same for me. That is why we have True Love. We understand each other better than anyone else ever could."

Red's assertions make so much sense that Regina can't begin to fathom a starting point to refute them. They really do have so much in common when she really considers it. Both had mothers whose selfishness precluded them from loving their daughters as they ought to have. Both lost their youthful loves before reaching the age of twenty. Both are inextricably connected to Snow White through tragedy. Both are magical. Both empowered themselves to reach their goals, different as said goals were – Regina to kill Snow and Ruby to protect her. And both wrestled daily with an internal monster normal people could never hope to understand which constantly and often angrily or greedily salivated for _more, more, more_.

In thinking of those parallels, she finally starts to intellectually process the reality of the Queen's revelation that Robin really wasn't her True Love and that Red was instead. The more she becomes convinced of that having relevance to her own life, and the more her brain begins to agree with her heart, it becomes even more agonizingly clear how unforgivably daft she's been. Ruby was right there in front of her for so many years, close enough to touch, sometimes even close enough to smell the mint on her breath from her preferred flavor of chewing gum. Yet she'd remained clueless to the deafeningly loud sirens and garishly large signs pointing to the underlying cause of an attraction she'd dismissed out of hand as simply a passing fancy chasing the coattails of an increasingly unavoidable boredom.

If she could go back…

 _No_ , Regina thinks, stopping herself from going any further down that line of thought. As riled up as she's already getting over how foolish her single-minded pursuit of vengeance was, she'd be best off changing the subject.

"So..." She drags the introductory word out, a bit nervous at the topic she's chosen. There were many possible routes to veer the conversation in, but it's really the only other thing she wants to discuss right now. After taking a fortifying breath, she wades into delicate waters. "I've been meaning to ask about Mireya. Clearly she is biologically related to both of you, and I can't help but be curious how that is possible."

The way Red scrunches up her nose, brows, and forehead is far too becoming. "Biologically related? What does that mean?"

"It means that one of you...sired her for lack of a better term whereas the other carried her to term then gave birth to her."

"Oh. I see." Interestingly, Red's cheeks begin to take on a...well, red hue. "That is a complicated story."

Now Regina is too invested to drop the matter. Her curiosity has been piqued and therefore must have satisfaction. "Make it simple for me then? It is relevant to me, after all."

Red relays her concession with an indulgent smile. "True. Alright. Well, as you may or may not know, me being a werewolf means I go into heat twice per year." She pauses here and flushes even further. "Forgive me, but do you want me to spare you the...intimate details?"

"Only what you're uncomfortable with. Otherwise, feel free to share anything you wish. As I said, if what I've been told really is true, it's relevant knowledge to me. And besides, I'm a big girl, I know all about the birds and the bees." Red's look of confusion is almost as precious as her consternation over the term, 'biologically related.' To clarify, she explains, "Where I'm from, the expression is an analogy for human reproduction."

Red acknowledges the explanation by lifting a finely curved brow, which always looks so much more dramatic than Regina's with how highly arched they already are naturally. "I see," she says. "Well, then. As I was saying, my heats last up to two weeks, and though Regina helps me through them way more often than I have any right to expect, I still endure discomfort that even..." Her cheeks turn bright crimson, "pleasuring myself on top of her attention doesn't help. If that goes on too long, it gets really bad. So bad that I wind up curled into a ball on the floor wailing and begging for the pain to stop. When that happens, I usually can't even remember how I got in the floor. It's almost like it hurts so much my mind blocks it out. Anyway, Regina...she, uh, she can't stomach seeing me in any sort of pain, so you can imagine how she reacted the first time she found me that way. It happened two more times before she got desperate enough to search for increasingly radical solutions to stop the heats – with my full approval of course. I mean, we're both women, we figured they didn't really serve a reproductive purpose in our case, so why not eliminate them?"

Regina nods. "A sensible approach."

"We thought so. Sadly, the only remedy she found was to strip me altogether of the source affliction."

After languidly blinking a few times, Regina stares at Red through owlish eyes. "That can be done?"

"Oh, yes," says Red, looking squeamish at the thought of the remedy. "But the process is so excruciating that most who tried it did not survive, and the few that did either went insane or wished they hadn't done it. Neither of us were willing to take that chance, so she kept looking for other solutions. One day she was rummaging around in her mother's belongings..."

Regina's heart falters. "Mother has visited?" Clutching at her chest, her eyes flit nervously about the otherwise unoccupied garden. At nearly forty and having buried her mother less than two years previous, the thought of Cora Mills ought not anymore provoke such dread. Of course, she has no idea if her mother is yet living in this world, so she renews her frantic search of the area, halfway expecting Wish World Cora to appear in a puff of purple smoke as if summoned out of her unadulterated terror.

Red, evidently sensing her stress, gives her hand another squeeze and holds on tight as she relays the abbreviated version of her alternate's harrowing encounter with their witch of a mother. The tale being succinct is another relief, as Regina is horrified by what she hears and would rather not hear any more than necessary.

"Yes," says Red, a heaviness settling over her shoulders along with a cloudiness to her eyes that dims their usual sparkle. "About two years ago now. Long story short, Cora came back with the idea she could worm her way back into Regina's life. Heartless and endlessly ambitious as she was, she went to atrocious extremes. In her fervor to gain her daughter's compliance, she got a little too rough with me. I almost died once when the torture got out of hand. I'm proud to say that Regina didn't fold until Cora took my heart and hid it away. For a time, she submitted to her mother's authority, but she never stopped searching for my heart until she found it. Once I was safe, she slaughtered her mother in cold blood. That's the last time I ever saw her so out of control. Only after did she return my heart. I guess she figured I would have tried to stop her. I wouldn't have though. The woman deserved much worse an end than she got."

Red trails off for a second, eyes distant as if reliving that appalling ordeal. She shakes herself out of it a moment later, though, and like a switch has been flicked, the weight lifts from her and the sunshine returns. "Anyway," she says, resuming her tale, "while Regina was sifting through her mother's tomes and such, she stumbled upon this particularly ancient one about transmogrification. Turns out there is a spell to..." Red halts speaking further when the door separating the garden from the castle suddenly bursts open.

A noblewoman ambles in that Regina instantly recognizes, and from the way Red reacts, rising to greet the familiar interloper with practiced politeness and genuine affection, it's not an unexpected occurrence. Perhaps amiably perusing the garden together is a regular occurrence. The idea isn't unfeasible considering Red's overt friendliness and the noblewoman's stalwart kindness.

After a brief exchange, Red returns to her perch at Regina's side, tucked up close, and immediately retakes her hand. Meanwhile, the tall, blonde noblewoman wanders over to inspect a row of geraniums, though she eyes Regina curiously the entire time.

"That's Lady Abigail, King Midas' daughter," Red says, leaning in close when the woman passes beyond hearing. "Naturally she thinks you're the Queen."

Regina worries at the way Kathr... _Abigail_ is eyeing her with poorly concealed interest. "I'm sure you corrected her?"

"Of course not," Red says. "Can't have the whole castle finding out about you until the deal with Prince Henry is hammered out. I told her you were testing a new potion you'd concocted and it temporarily made you appear younger. I think she bought it, but I can never be sure with her. She's a lot smarter than she looks." Her eyes bulge upon realization how that last sentence could be misconstrued. "Not that she looks stupid. It's just most overlook her because...well, you know..."

Regina only barely manages to smother her grin. It fascinates her how adorable Red is when she gets flustered. _So that's where Mireya gets it from_ , she thinks. She narrows her eyes at the Queen consort, feigning offense. "Because she's a woman? Or pretty? Or is it because she's a blonde?"

Red has the grace to blush, chagrined at the poor phrasing she'd used. "Oh, gods. I walked right into that, didn't I?"

Regina smirks at her. "Face first, dear."

In response to the light teasing, Red groans, clearly mortified by her faux pas. "I'm sorry. I meant no disrespect to her. Abby isn't just a noblewoman, she's my friend. I admire her so much!" Regina would have believed Red for her sincerity alone if she'd stopped there. But the talkative brunette barrels forward, clearly needing to make up for her unintended slight of Lady Abigail by singing the woman's praises. "I mean, how could I not? She gave up her right to her father's crown to come here.

"Midas ever failed to appreciate what she had to offer, and he never approved of her knightly lover. When he conspired to marry her off to a wealthy vizier who came from afar seeking greater power, she and Frederick absconded with only the clothes on their back and what little they could carry in a two parcels of luggage. She's so brave, and so is Fred! It's no wonder Regina took them in and befriended them. Now Fred serves directly under Mulan in our army and Abby is not only Regina's closest friend but also her most trusted advisor."

Hearing of Abigail's respectful treatment by the Queen fills Regina with shame. She averts her eyes, thinking of how horribly she'd abused her own friendship with Kathryn. It took years for her to finally win back the trust she'd squandered post-Emma-gate, but her other self had appropriately valued the woman from the outset. Yet another way in which the Queen is better than her. The knowledge is acutely demoralizing.

"She's my friend, too," she says, looking as dour as she feels. "She only recently returned to our city after a stint elsewhere to recuperate. I...wasn't good to her before she left. I used her in the worst way to further my pointless vendetta against Snow."

She shivers against the thought of that time, how lost she'd become to the consuming haze of hatred for an enemy who never once returned the animosity. That same antipathy had sent her spiraling into old patterns left behind after she'd become a mother and learned how to love again. The Curse prevented Snow from understanding her acrimony, but that magically induced amnesia hadn't mattered when Regina spent twenty-eight years daily remembering the offenses that sparked their feud. Kathryn, though, had been a true innocent caught in the middle of a war only one party knew was even being fought. And what made it worse was that she'd been a good friend to Regina, especially after she'd adopted Henry.

As a new single mother saddled with the exhaustive responsibility of running a town full of miscreants and imbeciles, she'd been more than once near the end of her tether. Kathryn was a Godsend during that time with her patient willingness to babysit on little to no notice and her readiness to listen whenever Regina needed to vent frustrations dangerously approaching critical mass. There were seven specific grave plots in the Storybrooke Cemetery still unoccupied solely because Kathryn had talked her down from a murderous high incurred by a drunken Leroy and his six-large crew of vertically challenged idiots. Those dwarfs caused more havoc during the Curse than the rest of the populace combined; they were fortunate, indeed, that Kathryn had developed a soft spot for Leroy when he did some remodeling work in her house.

It came as no surprise that Kathryn fled town upon learning of Rumple's trick to cheat the barrier not too longer after the Curse broke. Regina's behavior towards, well everyone, had been deplorable as she'd battled to keep her deceptively ineffective happy ending in tact, but she'd been particularly awful toward her supposed friend. What little portion of her heart with the capacity for tender feelings at that time had wished the woman and her newly restored lover the best of luck in Boston, a sentiment that went mostly ignored at their final confrontation at the town line. Regina had insisted upon seeing Kathryn safely out as she'd been the one to enchant the totem that would allow the couple to pass safely through the barrier.

" _I cared about you a lot, you know,_ " Kathryn had said as she stood there holding Frederick's hand. " _Our friendship wasn't fake on my end._ "

The words stung bitterly. Regina can remember how she'd averted her eyes to swallow thickly, shame flooding her for what seemed like the thousandth time since she'd pushed everyone who ever loved her away through her selfish actions.

" _I know,_ " she'd said, and when she turned back, Kathryn showed no signs of softening to her clear guilt over her treatment of the only person she'd befriended within the Curse. " _For what it's worth, I cared, too._ "

" _Just not enough,_ " said Kathryn. A softly spoken condemnation that hurt Regina more than the howling cries of the mob of newly reawakened citizens of Misthaven who had stormed her house with the expressed purpose of relieving her shoulders of her head.

Regina nodded sadly, heart in her throat, before parroting even more weakly, " _Just not enough_."

And then Kathryn turned without another word and walked away, passing through the threshold separating Storybrooke from the greater world beyond. Regina lost all contact with Kathryn after that. Busy as she was staving off crisis from one day to the next, she didn't have much, not that ever would have attempted to reach out for simple fear of rejection. But then one day she received a call out of the blue. Kathryn had come back to town unannounced, and was reaching out because – as she told Regina – she'd had time to think about how things went down leading up to her self-imposed exile and could now better understand why Regina did what she did, and could they please meet for lunch.

Regina agreed with some hesitance, afraid she was being set up somehow by the Queen, who'd had plenty of time to co-opt Kathryn into her convoluted plans. Seldom has she ever been more happy to be wrong.

" _I'm not saying you went about it the right way, but you were fighting for your family," Kathryn had said as she sat across from Regina at Granny's, a half-eaten BLT on the plate before her while Regina's meal went mostly untouched due to her anxiety. "I can't fault you for that. And even though you really hurt me at the end, in the years before I think I got to know the real Regina."_

" _You did," Regina had said, uncharacteristically desperate to mend the rift between herself and the friend she'd missed so badly over the years Kathryn was absent. "When you left, you said the friendship wasn't fake on your end. It wasn't on mine either." A golden brow lifted at that, which prompted Regina to amend, "For the most part anyway. Before Henry learned he was adopted and dragged Emma to town, I was starting to behave more like my old self again. How I used to be before becoming the Queen."_

" _Well, you should let her out more often," Kathryn said, an encouraging lilt in her soothing voice. Pausing, she'd plucked a fry off her plate and daintily bit off a third. After swallowing, she caught Regina's eye, expression shifting into something Regina could only describe as a fondness she'd not dared hope for. "I happened to like her quite a bit. I appreciated her sharp wit and sneaky sense of humor. And I really enjoyed her cooking."_

 _Regina chuckled at that. When Henry was growing up, Kathryn stayed for dinner from time to time on evenings she'd looked after him once she got off work at the quaint investment firm the Curse had provided for the economically inclined daughter of King Midas. Regina often burned the midnight oil and had no one else to turn to when she couldn't let off before the daycare closed or school let out. Kathryn, like her, was fairly isolated since her so-called husband was in a coma, she had no relationship to speak of with her father, and her schedule was flexible seeing that she was self-employed._

 _That Kathryn bonded so well with Henry was a boon Regina hadn't looked for. For years, the two were thick as thieves, and often bullied Regina into caving on decisions ranging from comic book selection to the dinner menu on nights Regina actually got home before six. Kathryn was especially conniving about manipulating Regina into cooking her favorites, primarily her lasagna. There was a reason she got so damn good at making that one dish, and it was Kathryn's insatiable enthusiasm for it._

 _The only reason the pleasant arrangement ended was because a six-year-old Henry had asked his mother late one night as she tucked him into bed why she loved work better than him. Regina stopped working like a willing slave all the time after that._

" _And even though you might find it hard to believe," Kathryn went on, "I actually liked being that woman's friend. So much so that I'd like to be her friend again if that's something she might be interested in."_

 _Regina nearly shot out of the booth at the unexpected mercy. "I am!" Noticing the stares of the other patrons, Regina flushed brightly, then cleared her throat trying to play off her embarrassment. "That is, I'm very interested in resuming our friendship."_

 _Kathryn didn't bother smothering her resultant smile. "Good. So..." She nibbled another bit of fry. "I hear your life's been interesting of late. Tell me all about it. I'm dying for some juicy gossip." And just like that, the tension between them passed._

* * *

They still had a long way to go of course, and although Regina realized she might never make amends for the crimes she'd committed against Kathryn, her friend didn't seem to be holding a grudge anymore. It was a win she wasn't about to question in spite of how undeserving she was of it.

"I'm still not sure why she forgave me," Regina adds, the suffocating weight of guilt bears down on her chest until she can barely swallow as Red's thumb rubs the skin on the back of her hand a little more ardently.

"It's because she's a good person," Red says. "Don't beat yourself up too bad. Regina hasn't been a perfect friend by any stretch of the imagination either. But Abby is too stubborn to give up her. Kinda like me I guess."

"She's lucky to have so many people who love and support her," Regina says, voice thick with emotion.

"Like Princess Emma does with you?"

Red's pointed question hits home, and it is clear from the luster in those green eyes that she'd mentioned Emma to remind Regina she had people like that as well. She hadn't wholly forgotten her family and friends. That would be impossible.

How could she ever forget Henry and his tiny baby hands reaching for her with tears in his eyes because all he wanted was his Mommy or the way he looks at her now with joyous relief and unmistakable love when he's not seen her for an entire day? Or how could she ever totally lose sight of Snow's annoying cheeriness and frequent pep talks about hope or Charming's guy hugs and crooked smiles? And how could she forget the way Zelena had looked at her when their memories were restored, as if Regina was what she'd been looking for all her life, not their abject failure of a mother? Those moments were ingrained into her very being, so she _knew_ how fortunate she was to have so many people in her life who loved her, even her sister whose constant mistakes kept Regina on the verge of unleashing her destructive rage.

But the sad truth of the matter is that for just a moment there she had let herself wade in to the attractive mire of self-pity that obscured her vision of those blessings. She's grateful to Red for so astutely and effectively snapping her out of it.

"Exactly," she says, hoping Red can see just how appreciative she is. "And thank you for reminding me of that."

Red gives her a hearty grin that crinkles the corners of her eyes. "You're so very welcome."

The atmosphere shifts then into something more tender that Regina is not quite ready for. She quickly changes the subject back to what they'd been discussing before Abigail's arrival. "Anyway, as you were saying about Mireya…?"

"Oh! Uh, well, I was gonna say..." Red pauses, glances at Abigail, who is close enough to overhear should she strain her eyes, then leans in even closer to whisper directly into Regina's ear what she'd been about to reveal.

Regina thinks the secrecy is unnecessary at first. But once Red is finished explaining the shocking details of the spell, she suddenly understands the furtiveness. She rears back, hand at her chest, astounded and flushed to the roots of her hair. "You _must_ be joking."

Red bites at her lip as she shakes her head. "I'm not! There really is a spell like that, only it just works on shapeshifters. Something about our magic that no one really understands. There aren't many of us left in the world, though, which is why it's almost never used. The effects also last two whole weeks, which was a little weird to wrap my head around. But the more I pondered it, the more it felt like something I should try. Desperate for relief as I was, I let her cast it on me. Lo and behold, it worked. A little too well, actually. She got pregnant during that very same heat." Red's face falls, and she averts her gaze to swallow heavily. "Unfortunately, she miscarried the baby."

"Well, that is certainly interesting," Regina says before the latter part of Red's account registers at the brunette's aggrieved gasp. Heart aching for how disconsolate Red appears at her lamentable misspeak, she starts to reach for the crestfallen woman to offer comfort only to stop herself short. She isn't sure her touch will be welcome. Just the same, she has to do something to amend her blunder lest Red be left to believe she thinks the loss of a child 'interesting.' So she blurts out, "Please excuse my regrettable implication. I meant no disrespect. I'm truly sorry about the baby."

The apology, late as it was, is accepted with a smile that offers only superficial concealment to an agony that has clearly never fully faded. "Me, too. We had a few more heartbreaks before Mireya. But she made all that pain worth it."

Hearing that is a relief, not only to her guilt over her ignorant reply, but to know that the tragedies Red – and the Queen – have suffered have been assuaged. Regina can't fathom the agony of enduring a miscarriage, but she has been exposed to Mireya's infectious joy, and _that,_ she believes, could cure virtually any heartbreak.

"I imagine so," she says, feeling her own smile break through the sadness that had all of the sudden beset the conversation. "I got to spend some time with her this morning. She made me breakfast and sat with me while I ate. We talked for some time. She's a lovely young lady."

Red couldn't have looked prouder if she'd been told Mireya had figured out how to rope the moon and give it to her for a present. "She really is. The best part is that she's that way all the time. Always happy to be useful and so full of life. I don't know where she gets it from."

Regina gives Red a teasing grin. "Not her other mother, that's for sure. I should know."

"Oh, she's not _that_ bad," Red says in mock offense. The twinkle in her eyes betrays her. "Neither are you for that matter. I'm sure your son would say the same."

That surprises Regina. "How do you know I have a son?"

Red chuckles. "Word travels fast around here even when an over-enthusiastic young lady isn't chomping at the bit to tell her Mama all about your conversation with her."

"A gossip is she?" Regina asks, not at all angered by the breach of etiquette. More that she's amused by her daughter's rambunctious puppy mentality. She'd told Mireya about Henry less than an hour before the Queen dropped in with her request to wifeysit, and yet Red already knew? That must be some sort of record for relating information revealed in contextually implied confidence. It was a good thing Mireya was far too cute to hold accountable for her antics. _Rambunctious puppy_ , she repeats to herself, chuckling at the thought of Mireya talking Red's ear off about her.

"You don't know the half of it," Red says with some exasperation. "If you want a secret kept, do yourself a favor and don't tell Mireya. She'll try her best, but her resolve won't last long."

"That sounds awfully familiar." Regina winces at the reference and at the unavoidable fact that Red will recognize it.

Thankfully, rather than look hurt or upset, the brunette gets a wistful smile on her face. "Yeah, she is kinda like Snow in that way."

"Well, I won't hold that against her," says Regina, smirking with a little more confidence at Red's positive reaction.

Red gasps at the jest as if she's heard the most terrible slight ever leveled against such a faultless soul as Mireya. "Regina! You shouldn't talk that way about your child!"

"She's not _exactly_ mine," Regina says, wishing yet again it wasn't true.

Red huffs, forbearance evidently being tested. "You know what I mean."

Regina does know, so she nods and focuses on the feel of Red's hand in hers to repress the surge of emotions welling up within. This happens every time she has even the most fleeting thought of how incredible it must have been for other self to have carried, given birth to, and raised a child as delightful as Mireya. She can't help but feel cheated, that fate has wrested away something precious from her and unfairly bestowed it onto someone else in her stead. She is not ignorant to how irrational the feeling is, that she has zero legitimate claim to Mireya nor any right to feel slighted at having that reality innocently paraded before her face. She'd made her own choices, after all. But cognizance of her culpability in the grand scheme of her destiny is not exactly conducive to ridding herself of this petty jealously that flares up with increasing regularity the longer she spends in this world.

"I do," she says aloud, for some reason feeling comfortable enough with Red to admit things she probably shouldn't. "And would that it was true. I'd give almost anything if she _was_ mine." Admitting out loud that she wants Mireya to be hers instead of _theirs_ sends pangs of hurt rattling through her bones accompanied with healthy concern that Red may react badly.

But once more, Red exceeds all expectation by sandwiching Regina's hand between her own and pulling them onto her lap where she holds it tightly. "It's not impossible, you know," she says, so very kindly that the pangs of hurt transform into longing, not only for Mireya but for the woman who had ' _sired'_ her. "Regina was right around your age when she had Mireya. What are you? Thirty-seven? Thirty-eight?"

Not caring to discuss this particular topic, Regina resorts to an age old female tactic. "Haven't you learned it's not polite to ask a lady's age?"

Red brushes off the deflection with a smug smile. "I'm not asking a lady, though, I'm asking my wife. Or a version of her, anyway. Besides, age is relative. I did learn _that_ from her."

Both are good points to which Regina cannot but concede. "Fair enough," she says, then sighs. "If you must know, I am in fact thirty-seven years old."

Which was true in a technical sense even if she was actually close to marking the sixty-eighth year since her birth. Ah, the delightful complexities of the Dark Curse.

"You're still plenty young enough then!" An incandescent smile accompanies Red's reply.

"For what exactly?"

"For you to find your Red and make your dreams come true." Regina has every intention of dispelling Red's naive suggestion, but is beat to the punch before she can even open her mouth. "And don't even bother to deny it. I saw your eyes light up when I told you about the spell."

Not one to give in so easily and heedless of any impropriety, Regina purses her lips and narrows her eyes to glare at the Queen consort. But Red just sits there, calm and composed wearing an expression that all but dares Regina to lie. She suddenly remembers a segment of their conversation no more than minutes before in which Red had proclaimed to possess an infallible talent for reading _her_ Regina's eyes and had insisted that, " _they never lie._ " She isn't keen to test that theory when the woman has the ear and the heart of the only ticket home for herself and Emma. And then there is the incessantly nagging desire to not disappoint Red with which she's been having to contend since arriving in the garden.

For the second time in less than a minute, she sighs a concession of defeat. "You're right. I can't deny that the possibility of having a child is one I am keen to explore. Unfortunately there are larger issues at play preventing it."

Red hums thoughtfully before responding. "I'm assuming this has something to do with your Red."

"Yes. That, and I don't have any such book as your Regina did in which to locate said spell."

Waving a dismissing hand at the latter part, Red says, "That's not an issue at all. I'll be happy to get Regina to provide you with a copy before you leave."

Face displaying her disbelief, Regina is unable to fathom how she has in the space of less than an hour gone from being genuinely afraid for her life where Red was concerned to having the woman make such a kind offer. "You would do that for me? After what I did to the Charmings?" Red gazes at her as if the answer should be obvious.

"You may not be mine, but you're still Regina," says the irresistible woman with a winsome personality, painfully attractive features, and beguiling goodness about her. "There's not a version of you across the unimaginably vast fabric of existence for whom I wouldn't do almost anything. Even forgive you for murdering my best friends."

Tears prick at Regina's eyes as she stares at Red, her True Love, who has just offered her forgiveness for an unpardonable sin. She bats them away with her free hand when they threaten to fall, feeling wretched at being shown such compassion and yet unwilling to refuse it. "I...I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything."

Red smiles at her in that unfathomably loving way that makes her heart ache. It's beautiful and pure and exactly how she's always wanted to be looked at by her lovers since Daniel's death, only to be sorely disappointed time and time again. Robin had got closest of all to summoning such affection, but even he fell short to the soul-deep brand that Red possesses for her, and that in spite of her not being the Queen. It's confusing as all hell but every bit as enthralling.

"It's what we do," Red goes on. "No matter how many times or how badly we mess up, we forgive each other."

"Most of the apologizing is on my end, I'd assume. _Hers_ , I mean."

Eyes shining with a patience that Regina strangely does not find insufferable, Red reaches out with her free hand to drag the tip of her finger down Regina's jawline. "I'm not perfect either, you know," she says, smiling a little at Regina's gasp at the delightful contact. "I have a reckless streak that drives her mad, and I'm not above challenging her in front of others, which you know is a dangerous proposition even with a monarch who doesn't have magic. Or an infamous temper. Sometimes I do it because she's being a pretentious asshole or unnecessarily cruel, but there are times I pick fights with her just because I'm in a foul mood or am feeling cooped up and wired because Wolf's Time is at hand. She forgives me my transgressions, though, because she loves me and accepts me as I am, same as I do for her."

The speech, while unprompted, is appreciated if only because Regina has been given a confirmation of the type of relationship that exists between Red and the Queen. At first glance within the throne room, she'd thought their connection to be astoundingly deep merely from how they were able to carry on conversations that required no words to be exchanged. It had seemed as if they were speaking through their eyes alone, or as if their hearts could somehow communicate on some magical wavelength that True Love bonds produced. Red has just solidified that belief by stating how unconditional their acceptance is of one another. In her opinion, nothing but True Love could know her so thoroughly and not find the very sight of her utterly contemptible.

Her friends back home certainly believed they knew all there was to know about Regina Mills. But they were so, so mistaken. Even Emma, who knew her perhaps on a deeper level than anyone else, could not fully appreciate the intricacies of her personality or grasp how well and truly she still stalked within the shadows of her inner darkness. If she wanted to remain a card carrying member of the Storybrooke Association of Self-righteous Do-gooders, she couldn't let anyone know that she still harbored thoughts that were unbecoming of a heroine, and fantasized of things totally taboo for a reformed villainess. So she hid those proclivities with an expertise that sometimes fooled even herself into believing they were gone. The trip to the Wish World has forever cured her of those ignorant delusions.

Meeting her distinguished counterpart has been a refreshing eye opener for a woman who'd allowed her keen edge to be dulled by the unrealistic expectations of others. Unlike Regina, who has been striving endlessly to please people who believe in no uncertain terms that life is black and white, the Queen exists in the gray, lives on the precipice between good and evil, tap-dances upon the razor's edge between light and dark, and all with the grace and dexterity of a gazelle. She's able to do so because Red is there, a continual balancing force that keeps her from drifting too far to either direction and headlong into unrepentant devilry or nauseatingly banal benevolence.

"That...actually sounds lovely," she says, wanting that kind of acceptance for herself with an alarming fervency that speaks to how dry and uninteresting she's allowed herself to become in the effort to _be good_.

Red heaves a dreamy sigh. "It's wonderful. We're perfect complements to each other. Don't you want to have that with your Red?"

Thinking of Ruby and her current whereabouts, a dismayed noise tears free from Regina's throat. "Even if I did, I can't..."

Tilting her head slightly in that canine-esque way of hers, Red frowns. "Why not?"

"Because she's in love with someone else! In another world! That's why not!"

Regina hadn't meant to blurt it out like that. The last thing she wants to talk about is Ruby's love life. It's awkward enough being around Red knowing what she does, but to have to discuss Ruby having found love with another woman who wasn't her suddenly seemed like a fine way to rub salt in a wound that had been festering for most of her adult life.

"Bah!" Red waves a dismissive hand as she say this, which somewhat infuriates Regina. Can't the woman see how difficult...how uncomfortable this topic is for her? "You've already shown how easily worlds are traversed," Red goes on, answering the unspoken question with a silent yet resounding, 'NO!' "Reaching her will be no problem. That leaves only one impediment, and I can already assure you it's as equally small an obstacle. Your Red may very well love this person as you say, but it's not the same way she can love you."

Regina wilts, all of her indignation shriveling up until she's nothing but a rotted bud. Defeat issues out from her ever pore. Red's assurance, firmly delivered as it was, is insufficient to triumph over the enduring belief that fate will never allow her to be happy.

"How can you be so sure?" she asks, sounding as insecure as she surely looks.

Red's expression shifts into a sympathy that would enrage Regina had she any reserves of indignation or energy left. But both are gone, expended without her having known they were even running low, and in light of her rapid onset exhaustion she has no fight left in her. Oh, how her detractors would laugh if they could see her now! The once proud Queen, beaten into submission, reduced to a pitiful remnant of her awe-inducing power. An emotional Humpty Dumpty so completely broken by life as to never be put back together. All the king's horses and all the king's men were inadequate, indeed. With how low she felt, not even Henry's Justice League with their superhuman powers could pull off that feat.

"Because I know the someone else you're talking about," Red says. "It's Dorothy Gale, isn't it?"

Regina perks up instantly. _Perhaps my energy reserves were not so depleted after all_ , she thinks. Aloud, she says, "How did you know that?"

Red gives her a secretive smile, and stage whispers, "'Cause I was with her, too." Stunned, Regina's jaw flops open. "I know, right!" chirps Red at her comical reaction. "How could I _ever_ have loved anybody else but Regina?"

Smoothing her features, Regina reels in her shock so as to not perpetuate Red's misinterpretation. "That's not what I was thinking. It's natural a lovely, vivacious woman such as yourself would have enjoyed lovers before me... _her_." Regina shakes her head at the annoyingly constant slips that seem to be happening around Red. Archie would have a field day with them. She clears her throat before elaborating, "I was just surprised is all. Ruby didn't meet Dorothy until recently in my world."

For a second, Red looks confused at Regina's usage of the name Ruby. Adorably so, too, with the way her head tilts and her eyes search Regina's for the source of her confusion, as if a dog who has just heard a strange noise that mystifies them. She smiles internally at the aptness of the comparison, and at how making them would probably never get old.

But then Red's expression morphs as comprehension dawns. "Oh, yes. I remember you mentioned that name the first time you saw me. As for... _Ruby_ ," her eyes twinkle merrily using the name, "her being with Dorothy just further demonstrates how similar my world really is to yours. And yet different at the same time. It's quite interesting, isn't it?"

"It is actually," Regina says. "What is more interesting right now is the story of you and Dorothy. What happened between you two?"

Having every right to spurn Regina's inquest for propriety's sake alone, Red instead chooses to give her an indulgent shrug. "We had a brief relationship that ended about a year before fate lead Regina to my little cabin. We were together a little over six months before we mutually agreed things weren't working between us. After the split, Dorothy went back to Kansas for a spell while I came home."

Regina leans in a bit closer to Red. "At the risk of sounding even more over-invested than I already am, why didn't it work?"

"We were too different, and didn't want the same things out of life," Red says. "All Dorothy craved was adventure. She lives for the fight, for the challenge of facing impossible odds and risking it all to overcome them. My idyllic scenarios have always been somewhere far away from conflict where I can settle down and raise a family with the person I love. Most of that she just couldn't imagine herself doing any time soon."

The answer unexpectedly lacks any hint of pain. Quite to the contrary, Red seems perfectly unemotional, which indicates to Regina that the relationship did not leave a lasting impression beyond Red's clear platonic fondness for the woman with whom she'd briefly shared a bed. That Red's love for Dorothy wasn't the crazy, all-consuming type like Snow and Charming share is another boulder placed upon a growing mountain proof that what she shares with the Queen is True Love. Beyond that, it relieves Regina more than it probably should to learn that, for Red, no one else can measure up to her. It gives her hope for Ruby she'd thought all but dead.

Still, there is the small matter of incompatibility Red has just mentioned coming between herself and Dorothy.

"And _I_ am somehow a better match for you?" she asks.

"Oh, gods, yes! You are a fighter, Regina, but only when you feel threatened. Otherwise, you're content to be happy with your family. Make no mistake, our life isn't boring by any means, but we both treasure our domesticity. That was something Dorothy, by her own admission, could never give me. Just as I couldn't give her what she needed. We both decided after that it was best we be friends instead. And it works for us. We're still friends to this day. No hard feelings. And besides, she found her True Love not long after I did mine."

"Oh?"

"Yep." She pops the 'p' in that aggravating way Emma often does. Come to the think of it, Ruby does it, too. Or did. During the Curse. When she was a rebellious waitress with too much frenetic energy pent up inside to unleash upon a small town like Storybrooke. The reminder sends a pang through Regina's heart along with another lance of self-recrimination that she'd not jumped at her opportunity when it was literally right there standing right in front of her upon two _incredibly_ fine legs. "In fact," Red goes on, ignorant to Regina's internal musings, "they're off on another quest right now, kicking ass and saving lives. And me? Well, I'm right where I'm supposed to be."

The confidence with which Red radiates as she boldly states her conclusion sends a thrill chasing down Regina's spine that heroically wars against her tendency to assume the worst. That hope for Ruby that had just been reignited from cooling embers to a small flame bursts with renewed vigor. It licks up the hearth of her heart before settling back down into a steady, soothing, inviting flame which gives her comfort and a sense of optimism that she hasn't felt in so long. Not since that last night with Daniel in the stables where they'd pledged their troth with only the horses as witnesses and a saddle ring as a promise. And while the negative side of her is frantically trying to snuff out the fire, the positively-spirited one Henry and Emma and her loved ones back home have been so painstakingly reassembling proves too resilient to resist as it banishes her old mainstay set of mind.

"Regardless of my penchant for cynicism," she says, buoyed by Red's encouragement, "you've certainly given me much to think about."

Red's smile is so sweet it could melt the hardened heart of Pharaoh. "And you've certainly helped take my mind off of...everything. So thanks for that."

Regina gives Red's hand a squeeze. Sanguine as her current mood is, she decides to share a tidbit of information she has never confessed to a single soul. Frankly, before all of this, she refused to confess it even to herself.

"You're very welcome," she says. "You know, there was a time in my life I entertained the idea of seducing you...or, more accurately, my Red."

"Why didn't you?"

"A variety of reasons, or at least I told myself. Back then I was bitter and lonely and still focused on getting my revenge. I couldn't afford the distraction. Now I just think I subconsciously recognized the danger you posed...or maybe my heart already knew what my head wasn't ready to."

"And is your head finally ready to catch up?"

The inquiry is not without merit. Bolstered as she currently is by what she's just learned from Red, she is unsure as to whether or not it will last. Will she feel the same way when she's back home and having to face the Evil Queen again? Will she feel the same when she's next standing at Robin's grave remembering the very real love they shared? Will she still feel this way should she encounter Ruby in the not too far off future?

"I...I don't know." She ducks her eyes briefly, hopefulness flagging in the winds of reality. "I want to say yes, but I simply can't without being disingenuous. Not so soon after losing Robin and with so many difficulties ahead. I have much to answer for back home. And even though learning all of this has given me hope I had no reason to anticipate, I'm also confused and sad and angry and... _mmmph_!"

Before Regina can even spit out the rest of her sentence, Red astonishes her by tugging her by the hand into a kiss that will forever be emblazoned into her memory. It begins as a chaste exchange, a familiarization between two women who are relative strangers and yet feel like so much more. Little by little since that moment of introduction in the throne room, Regina has felt herself being inexorably drawn towards Red. What's strange is that she'd never felt that with Ruby during the almost three decades they'd interacted on a daily basis. Back then, her heart had still been coal black and cold as ice, which is a lame excuse but valid nonetheless when in truth her sole concern had been Snow's continual suffering. She'd had little to no room in her mind or in her heart for the captivating beauty of the waitress who made her coffee each morning. Hatred had blinded her to what was being offered up to her by fate for twenty-eight years.

Twenty-eight years! All that time wasted, potential time to have this inalienable connection with another human being who would not only have accepted her for who she was but _loved_ her for it. Seeing Ruby in a new context as Red has afforded her perspective that she'd lacked being so myopically focused on the suffering of others. Because there is no question as to whether Ruby would have given every bit as much of herself to Regina as Red has to the Queen. How much misery could have been avoided, then, if she'd only opened her eyes?

But alas as in all things, she'd proven her own worst enemy. She missed her chance at a happy ending with Ruby, and now fate was rubbing her nose in her own mess by showing her what she'd been so gleeful to remain ignorant of. To make matters worse, she was powerless to do anything but revel in the wonder of what could have been. For the very instant their lips touched, that pull Red exerted upon her became a full blown consumption which has caught her up in an inescapable death spiral. Cascading at breakneck speed toward an event horizon of some significance she can't place just yet, she loses all sense of awareness beyond the smell and taste of Red. Spearmint with a hint of apples. It reminds her so much of those few close encounters with Ruby that her heart lurches and she nearly breaks away to tuck tail and flee from the emotions threatening to run roughshod over her frighteningly deteriorated defenses.

Her fight-or-flight instinct is abruptly short-circuited when Red changes up the angle, parting her lips to deepen the kiss as she pulls Regina even closer with a hand that wanders up to find her jaw. For a split second Regina panics at the awful sensation of wrongness, this ridiculous notion bubbling up that's she's somehow being unfaithful to Ruby while at the same time facilitating Red's infidelity to the Queen. But then Red makes this little noise in the back of her throat as she breaths in through her nose, and the sound of it is so disarmingly seductive that what remains of Regina's scant resistance collapses in upon itself, folding down a thousand times until it's been reduced to nothing by the irresistible vortex of destiny. Surrendering to the blissful moment, she opens up to Red, allows her mouth to be consumed by Red's quest to devour her. Moaning her approval, she scoots closer until their knees are in contact so that she can lean in to Red and thread the fingers of her left hand into that impressive mane of chocolate hair that she discovers to be even softer and silkier than it looks.

When Red quite frustratingly breaks the heart-stopping, knee-weakening, conflagration-inducing kiss, Regina almost doesn't catch a whine of protest that unexpectedly bubbles up. It's quite a feat to smother it down considering Red keeps sucking on her upper lip as she pulls away and only releases it with a satisfying smack when its reached its elastic limit. For long moments they sit staring at one another, both panting, eyes dilated with unmitigated desire. Want fills Regina in ways she's never imagined possible. Unable to refrain any longer, she surges forward to rejoin their lips, and Red must have been feeling the very same, as they meet in the middle in a searing kiss even more provocative than the last. Melting into one another, breath blending as their lips tangle, they probe each other for boundaries that are rapidly evaporating within a thick haze of lust that has descended over the garden.

Thinking back later on this momentous event, Regina will never be able to calculate how much time passed during that first intimate encounter between herself and the Wish World Red. She only knows that it changed everything for her, that it was the moment her stubborn reluctance to embrace what she was being told ended and she at last accepted that Ruby is indeed her True Love. It's when she finally realizes why people who have True Love do such stupid things for one another and are so thoughtlessly negligent with their lives for the sake of their partners. She knows now why Snow and Charming have their, "I will always find you," and why Belle keeps slamming her head against the unforgiving brick wall that is Rumplestiltskin's heart.

She knows all of this down to the marrow of her bones because as Red deepens the kiss once more, slipping a velvet tongue into Regina's eagerly receptive mouth, she sees honest-to-God stars explode behind her eyelids, feels the earth shift beneath her, and experiences an indescribable tugging on her chest that has her itching to crawl into Red's lap and wrap herself around the woman until they became indistinguishable from one another. This is rapture. This is transcendental exhilaration. This is experiencing a holy revelation that it would be blasphemous to deny. Never has she ever needed to be as close to someone as she needs to be close to Red, and it is a feeling that will not be eclipsed for nearly six months when she gets to experience the real thing with the version that is _hers_.

"Did that help clarify things for you?" Red asks, chest heaving when she pulls away after God knows how long. Her lips are enticingly swelled and reddened and glistening in the sunlight.

Regina touches her own lips with two fingers, awestruck at what has just transpired and not quite sure what to do about it. Or why it happened in the first place. "Why on earth did you do that?" is her breathless response.

Red looks at her with that longsuffering expression Regina imagines is often directed at her counterpart. It is present, as well, in her tone as she says, "Um, because I wanted to. To be fair, though, I pretty much always want to kiss you, even when I'm enraged at you."

On instinct, Regina glances about for the Queen, afraid the woman will have shown up at the worst time imaginable and conflate the kiss with an aggressive act of seduction on Regina's part. But no one is present in the garden, not even Abigail who has apparently slipped out while she and Red were engaged in conversation. Why she'd done so without even speaking to Regina is uncertain, but Regina suspects its because the Queen expects her afternoon meetings with her wife to be largely left uninterrupted. It's what she would want, also, after all.

"Well, you shouldn't have," she whispers, not caring that they're alone. No telling what tricks the Queen might use to eavesdrop. "You're a married woman! And to _me_ , at that! She won't be happy with either of us."

Red grins, a low throaty chuckle rumbling through her chest. "Oh, sweetie, you're so wrong about that. She'll applaud me for taking the initiative, especially if it had the intended effect, which I think it did based on your reaction. You felt it, didn't you? The tug of True Love on your heart?"

Regina stiffens, wanting so badly to deny what she knows Red had sensed...what she is trying so hard to ignore because it was real and she felt it, too, and it scares her absolutely shitless. But Red just keeps gazing at her and smiling encouragingly as if communicating with her eyes, " _It's okay to admit it. It's nothing to be ashamed or scared of,_ " and the trustful tenderness in them wrestles the answer free.

Through tight lips and clenched teeth, Regina hisses out, " _Yes..._ "

Red sighs, exasperated by her unwillingness to let go of her innumerable hang-ups. "Stop fighting it, Regina! Just embrace it. That feeling right there will _never_ lead you astray."

"You know," a third, clearly female person interjects, "she said the very same thing to me once. Against my admittedly flawed instincts, I listened. And now look where I am! I'd say that decision worked out very well for me. Wouldn't you?"

Regina blanches at the sound of her own voice and rotates her head to look over her shoulder so quickly that she's surprised her neck didn't snap from the violence of the motion. She finds the Queen standing just behind Red's right shoulder, wearing a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin. Regina gulps and prepares to bid adieu to the peaceful afternoon.

"Hey, you!" Red calls, and greeting prompts the Queen to move around where Red can see her. Now in Red's line of sight, the Queen consort offers the hand not still clutching Regina's to her wife. "How did the inspections go?"

Regina is suddenly reminded that she hadn't expected the Queen to return until much later. Had it been a set up from the get-go? A manufactured excuse to get Regina in the same room as Red for more than half a second? If so, it worked splendidly, but that doesn't stop Regina from being incensed that she'd allowed herself to be so suavely manipulated.

"Fantastically," the Queen says, taking her wife's hand. And before any examination came be made into her early return, she gives elucidation that resolves Regina's suspicions. "The garrisons are surprisingly up to snuff, thus my expedience." She eyes Regina as if privy to her doubts concerning that exact thing. "To my immense approval, the inspectors I'd dispatched earlier in the week had their reports ready and kept them succinct, just the way I like them." The Queen's expression shifts then into something more chastising. Regina is relieved it's directed at Red instead of her. "And then just as I came in, I ran into Abigail. She was quite perturbed to see me having just left the garden in which I was present only seconds before. And looking much more my age. I had to explain to her what happened."

 _And that explains that_ , Regina thinks.

Red's cheeks turn rosy at being called out for her white lie. "Sorry. I wasn't sure you'd want to tell her yet, so I made something up she wouldn't question."

"It's alright, love," the Queen says, an indulgent smile blooming that creases her cheeks and makes her eyes shimmer. "She understood the need for deception. Furthermore, however, and might I add on a better note, she also informed me her sources within the White Kingdom expect Prince Henry to lodge formal complaints by the morning. Isn't that most splendid news? With any luck, we'll have our honored guests back home within the week."

That is, indeed, 'most splendid news' for Regina. As discombobulated as she feels from the constant inundation of life-altering revelations throughout the past twenty-four hours, that heart-stopping kiss from Red preeminent among them, all she wants to do is retreat into the impenetrable sanctum of her home and brood for a solid week. Right now, it's difficult to appreciate how insanely lucky she is to have made this journey to rescue Emma when her entire concept of the path her life has taken to this point has been so terrifically derailed.

Everything since Tinker Bell's fairy dust has been a lie, every choice based upon a falsehood that might very well have changed everything for her. Because who's to say if she would have made the same decision faced with an impossibly beautiful girl wearing a red-hooded cloak instead of a mysterious man with a tattoo on his arm who represented a very real threat to Daniel's memory. If that kiss was any kind of indication, maybe with Red she would have made a different decision. Maybe she would have taken a second chance on love instead of succumbing wholeheartedly to hatred. The possibilities that opened up would be nearly infinite, and a part of her yearns to stand before Red at the hub of that many-forked road, if only to have the chance to make the right choice this time.

For the first time Regina truly understands Zelena's obsession with the time travel spell she'd cast at the cost of her own life. The desire to go back and, as the Queen had put it, ' _enlighten_ ' Tinker Bell is unbearably strong, especially now that she has two independent, irrefutably tangible proofs of the True Love that exists between her and Red. And yet if Emma's fumbling foray into the past had proven anything, it was that time was a force best left to its own devices. There was no telling what she might screw up in such an endeavor.

The desire, though, remains despite the prevailing of rationality. It's unwelcome presence transforms her torturous proximity to a love that by all rights _should_ be hers as well into increasingly insufferable torture.

"That's great!" Red says, answering the Queen. And then to Regina's horror she does the unthinkable. "By the way, just so you know, I kissed her. Twice."

Internally panicking at Red having so blatantly confessed their transgression, Regina braces for an influx of violence that never comes.

"And? Do you believe me now?" Eyebrow cocked in that Queenly way, her counterpart smirks at her with such smugness that Regina flushes tomato red.

She's so annoyed that she can only force out a biting, " _Yes_!" that sounds an awful lot like the one she'd given Red only a minute or so ago.

The Queen claps excitedly at the news as if it is something to be celebrated. "Excellent! You've done well, darling! Now she can't live in denial anymore. Can you, my dear?"

 _Dammit!_ Regina thinks, hating the Queen for being so pompous. And for being so correct. She could deny the assertion, of course, but those discerning brown eyes would see through her pitiable attempts at obfuscation. One cannot lie to oneself. Oh, she could certainly blind herself to the truth or stuff it down so deep inside that it became a faint glimmer in the sand, a diamond buried in the grainy soot of self-delusion, but it would still be there patiently awaiting the inevitable day of discovery.

For the third time in as many minutes, she finds herself grinding her teeth having to admit something she doesn't want to.

"No!"

The Queen's gleeful laugh at the one word response uttered with as much adolescent insolence as Regina can muster is one she'll stew on for hours after she leaves the garden and Red behind. But the stunning revelations that bloomed like the gorgeous plants within will stay with her for the rest her furlough within a land she couldn't forget even if she wanted to. Which she doesn't. Not by a long shot. This place is special to her now, for having been sanctified by a breathtaking kiss that revived hope against all hope, it has been memorialized in her mind as the place of her third birth.

Her first was to Prince Henry and Princess Cora in the realm of King Xavier. The second was an excruciating labor that lasted from the very instant she said yes to Leopold's proposal to her exceedingly grand and unforgettably gruesome entrance into the world as the Evil Queen. And the last she'd begun by spinning herself into the cocoon of motherhood that begun a transformation process even she wasn't aware she was undergoing until the Curse ended. It was only here in this magical place that she has at last emerged from chrysalis as a woman who not only understands but accepts herself, and who now knows to her infinite joy that there is someone besides herself who can appreciate all of her quirky idiosyncrasies and hideous faults just as readily as her strengths.

And as she's lying in bed that night, she can't help but be glad for her selfish decision to sunder herself from the darkness within, if only because now Emma knows from experience how much her parents love her and how very good they would have been to her. That, and Regina now knows that her future is not so grim anymore. She has a purpose that she'd lacked beyond simple survival and towing the burdensome and often gratingly trite line of good. Ruby is out there, somewhere in Oz with someone who can't ever make her truly happy. Luckily for her, it's Regina's job to fix that, and she's a woman who hates to fail more than anything else in the world.

She smiles, nuzzles her head into the pillow, and whispers prayerfully into the cool night air. "It may take some time, but I'll come for you, Ruby. No matter what I must do, no matter how long it takes, I'll make this right. I'll fight for our happy ending, even if you're not ready to. And someday when all is said and done, the hurt done to us will be but a distant memory in the light of our love. We'll get our happy ending. I swear it upon my very life."

It's one of a handful of vows Regina has ever made before that she will most avidly keep. But it won't be the last.


	7. Of Daughters & Home

**Chapter 7** \- Of Daughters & the Agony of Going Home

What was supposed to have been a week turns into a month. Still, it passes by far too quickly for Regina's taste.

In the heady aftermath of that memorable encounter with Red, Regina floats through the next day upon billowy clouds of an elation that is all but foreign to her cynical heart. Everything around her seems so much more alive through senses removed of the filters that once shielded her from dangerously hoping for more than a life fueled by vengeance and defined by tragedy. For too long those things had tainted her perception of the world, but now removed, the birds' songs sound merrier, the sky appears bluer, and even the chilly air that slaps against her skin when she is roaming the castle grounds smells more fresh and feels more tolerable.

It's as if she has entered some transitory phase akin to what she underwent after Daniel's death, only in reverse. Instead of sinking into the inescapable morass of madness and despair at the bottom of which awaited the Evil Queen, she is being lifted towards the wholesome planes of heaven where happiness reigns supreme. As of yet, she cannot guarantee she will soon breach the event horizon capping that infernal black hole of a prison, only that she is drawing nearer by the day. And where that once would have triggered a negative backlash of catastrophic proportions, she actually anticipates the day she at last emerges a new woman.

Regina does not expect her final form to be anywhere near the loving, tenderhearted, impressionable young girl Daniel so adored, nor does she wish to retain the most loathsome of her character attributes. Tilting to either extreme would be as unpalatable as it is unlikely. What she hopes instead is to arrive at a comfortable medium between the kind, compassionate person she used to be and the evil tyrant she'd become. That would be a compromise she could accept, as it would be completing the process she'd begun the day she committed to reform for the sake of her son.

For the past few years, Regina has been diligently striving to reach that place of balance. Progress, sadly, has been irritatingly slow and fraught with numerous setbacks, most of which were occasioned by the requirement incumbent upon her to keep her ragged edges razor sharp and fit to be wielded at a moment's notice. With danger lurking around every corner in Storybrooke, a sorceress willing to throw her lot in with the heroes was in high demand, particularly considering her vast magical skill set and her comparative lack of scruples. Since the Curse broke, one disaster after another has visited their shores in the form of an assembly line menagerie of megalomaniacs, the latest of which is – for all intents and purposes – herself. The town has needed her to remain perpetually in touch with her dark side, as she was the only one aside from Rumple – who always operates according to his own agenda – willing to do whatever it takes to win against forces lacking the restraints of morality.

To be frank, Regina is sick of being used by her so-called friends to achieve goals that do not involve a reward for her outside of being satisfied she had _done the right thing_. And she has long ago tired of being assigned the designated role of necessary evil in the heroes' never ending wars with a seemingly inexhaustible supply of enemies. That said, dealing with the Evil Queen will be among her first orders of business once she's back home; the creation of her alter ego was her own fault, after all, and thus ultimately her problem to solve. But once that crisis has passed, she is determined to do something truly selfish for a change. The next snake to crawl out of the underbrush and slither into town will have to be dealt with by everyone else and without her aid. Regina has a date with destiny in the land of Oz, and there is not anything or anyone save Henry alone who can deter her from arriving precisely on time for it...and with her patented panache.

As might be expected, the improved mood she's been operating under has not gone unnoticed. Emma incessantly pesters Regina until she finally wears down enough to give the Savior a sanitary version of events in the garden that preserves the Queen consort's reputation along with her own. More concerned for what people think of Red than her, she can't tell Emma, who has sadly inherited that insufferable Charming quality of being incapable of keeping a secret, about the kiss. So she says that during the conversation with Red, she'd had a ' _revelation,'_ and if that was not a satisfactory explanation, a proper one would have to wait until they were back home. In Storybrooke, the ramifications of what she and Red had done would be nullified. Of course, she doesn't say that last part; the last thing she needs is Emma getting the wrong idea. Bad enough she made out like an overly horny teenager with the Queen's wife. If the nobles got wind of a potential breach of marital fidelity, even if existing only in rumor, they could give the royal couple a lot of trouble that Regina would prefer to avoid bringing down upon them.

Fortunately, Emma seems to accept that the topic is not up for further discussion. But she does clap Regina on the shoulder as they stride toward the grand ballroom where a last minute gala is being thrown celebrating the unexpected arrival of Mireya's betrothed.

"I'm happy for you," Emma says as they step up to the doors in their gowns.

No doubt all eyes will be upon them upon entering, as they are the peculiarity of the day. Regina is dreading being scrutinized by the haughty aristocracy of world to which she does not belong, but the sharks churning and frothing for their ounce of flesh will not be permitted close enough to consume her. She was navigating the treacherous waters of court before Emma was a twinkle in her father's eye, and she'll be damned if she puts anything less than her best face forward.

That in mind, earlier in the evening she'd helped Emma pick out something bound to impress a crowd of elites and royals. Good thing, too, because the woman was hopeless in the medieval wardrobe department.

" _If it's not skinny jeans, tees and tanks, I don't want it touching my skin,_ " Emma told Regina right after her misadventure in the past with Hook.

Regina had just nodded along, not wanting to burst Emma's bubble of indignation over women being 'forced' to wear such hideous contraptions as girdles and unwieldy dresses. Truth be told, if there was one thing she missed about the Enchanted Forest, it was the clothing. Which is why every outfit she ever wore was transported to Storybrooke by the Curse and stored in the vault below her family mausoleum. On rare occasion, she'll magic herself there just to slip into an old ensemble and feel the authoritarian power and social superiority that is essentially sewn into the fabric.

For Emma, she chose a dark blue silken number that shades her green eyes the color of a stormy sea. It's cinched at the waist with a white belt and sports translucent laced sleeves that reveal the hint of well-toned arms. She'd then arranged Emma's famous blonde locks into cascading curls that reach nearly halfway down her back, bangs held back by a lovely diamond tiara that Red generously donated to her goddaughter with the promise of them spending some time alone together before their visitors have to leave.

All gussied up, Emma is more beautiful and radiant than Regina's ever seen her, and that's saying something because there hasn't been a moment since they met she hasn't been aware of Emma's attractiveness. There is something about this place, though, that brings out the magic in the Savior, and that reflects not only in her dress but in the glow of her skin and the light behind her eyes. Come to think of it, it seems to be having the exact same effect upon Regina, who feels positively effervescent.

Meanwhile, in a show of solidarity with her friend, Regina chose a backless navy velvet dress accented by a pearl-studded, ornate silver belt and collar combination that hugs her famous curves like a second skin. It's the one she'd worn when she enchanted Hook's eponymous appendage so that he could take her mother's heart. As she strides down the hallways with Emma, she gets more than a few leers along with the stares of fascination at the newcomer wearing their monarch's de-aged face. The Queen had unilaterally decided to formally announce her presence that morning, and word had filtered through the castle's gossip vine with typical celerity. Regina didn't much appreciate the impolite appraisals of her derriere aside from the ego boost provided. For some warped reason, she associates her desirability with her chances of successfully wooing Ruby away from Dorothy.

It's wrong, she knows, to be plotting the intentional subversion of what she's heard to be a successful relationship. That's the sort of underhanded behavior the Evil Queen would utilize to sow discontent or even outright betrayal among her enemies. But Regina's motives are as pure as they can be under the circumstances. Make no mistake, she understands how unethical and immoral it is for her to insinuate herself uninvited into Ruby's life and relationship with Dorothy Gale. But what she's learned from the Queen and from Red adds a mitigating factor into an otherwise disgraceful equation she's been subconsciously calculating since the moment her lips touched Red's. As Red had so efficiently proven, the end sum of it all is worth the whatever staining of her conscience her deliberate interference incurs.

Having Emma nearby has been an enormous boon, though, if only because she knows she has the Savior's unwavering support. If asked, there is no doubt in her mind Emma would be right there with her in Oz, leveraging her friendship with Ruby to serve as Regina's biggest cheerleader. Not that Regina has plans on extending the invitation, thus making Emma guilty by association of being a homewrecker. Winning Ruby's heart is something she's going to have to do on her own, but that doesn't diminish her gratitude for the woman who has stood by her more readily than anyone in Regina's life and through more adversity than could have rightfully been expected of her.

"Thank you, Emma," she says, feeling affection well within her breast for the truest friend she's ever had. Her eyes shine as she joins their hands together.

"For what?" Emma asks in that whispery tone that indicates she's emotional.

"For believing in me. For being here with me when I need you."

Emma squeezes her hand encouragingly, her expression painfully earnest. "You're my best friend, Regina, and the mother of my son. I'll always believe in you. And there's no place else I'd rather be than right here in the thick of it with you. I mean, isn't that our thing? Wading into the proverbial fires together to save our families? As far as I can tell, we were sent here to do just that. I got the chance to know what it would have been like to grow up with my parents, to experience their love over a lifetime. It's something I'll never, ever forget, and will always treasure."

"And me?" Regina asks, already knowing the answer but needing validation for what's in her heart from someone more objective.

"You, my friend," says Emma, smiling widely, "got the best gift of all. You found out that your chance at a happy ending didn't die with Robin. All this time you've had a True Love you didn't even know about until this happy accident, quirk of fate, or whatever you wanna call it, spelled it out in bold letters so big even you couldn't miss the sign!" At that, Emma gives Regina's shoulder a friendly bump that draws a chuckle, chased by a sniffle as she fights off tears that so badly want to ruin her flawless makeup. "This is the beginning of your second chance, Regina, and I refuse to allow you to waste it. Which is why you should know that I'm here. Whatever you need from me, I'll do it. No questions asked."

The speech is a far cry from the one Emma had given her as they stood at odds before her beloved apple tree. Chainsaw in hand, challenge in her eyes, Emma had all but declared war that day. How far they'd come since those early, contentious days when they'd wanted nothing more but to claw each other's eyes out.

"What?"

Emma's question, posed with her lips tilted northward, makes Regina realize she's been wistfully shaking her head at the memory. "I was just remembering the day you took a chainsaw to my apple tree," she says.

" _Ahh_...those were the days, weren't they?" Emma's response is one Regina hadn't anticipated. Frankly, she finds it strange Emma would regard those days with such fondness. But it's clear she does. "No ogres," she goes on, "or soul-sucking wraiths, or nefarious teenagers bent on world domination to deal with. Just two bitches trying to one up each other. God, that was a hell of a time."

"Was it?" Regina asks, brow raised. "I seem to remember being the cause of your current blood pressure issues."

"Don't get me wrong, you were a pill, lady." Regina scoffs as Emma grins at her. "And I'm not fond of how Henry got caught between us. But honest to God, squaring off against you was the most challenging – and fun – battle I've ever engaged in. Back in Boston, my old job got pretty boring because I was so good at it. But you? I realized the moment I met you that I'd finally met my match. Glad you proved me right."

"Me, too," Regina says, smiling herself. She starts to comment on how she's glad Snow isn't around else the moment be ruined with calls for a group hug, but it dies on her lips at the sound of them being announced to the crowd, doubtless now on tenterhooks for their entrance, inside the ballroom. They have dilly-dallied enough. "Well. Time to face the music." After grasping the door handle, she heaves a preparatory breath and then glances over at Emma. "Ready?"

The Savior squares her shoulders and stands to her full height, sliding effortlessly into the role of Princess Emma. "After you."

As predicted, every attendee turns to watch as they stride into the ballroom. Emma seems to blossom under the attention, head held high, posture regale, and wearing a smile that nearly rivals Red's for brilliance. Regina mostly ignores the gawkers. There are only two sets of eyes she's interested in catching, and one more so than the other.

She spots the Queen gazing her way from where she is standing between Red and Mireya in the center of the room. The woman gives her the polite nod of well practiced hostess. Her Majesty's hair is in the edgy bouffant style Regina herself preferred during her tenure as a despot, and she is decked in an extravagant garnet and black gown collared with ebony raven's down which features a Queen Ann neckline adorned with silver and gold filigree. She is the focal point of the entire gathering, which is unsurprising to Regina, who had also once craved being the center of attention.

The Queen's brown eyes, on the other hand, are brimming with affection that Regina finds almost disquieting. She's not sure how to feel about her older self's change in opinion where she's concerned. During her own reign, she'd been infamously mercurial, vacillating wildly from calm serenity to a blazing inferno of rage. As such, she's not quite worked out whether this newfound fondness of the Queen's is just one of those seismic mood shifts or a genuine development, although she leans toward the latter. The reason for that is Red.

Speaking of Red, the Queen consort is positively beaming at Regina as she makes her way toward the royal couple who will be expected to officially greet and then recognize both of their honored guests before the festivities resume. As per their custom, Red and the Queen sartorially complement one another. But whereas the Queen dress is ostentatious, Red's is an understated, off-the-shoulder velvet gown the color of rich mahogany. Pinned to the center of the neckline dipping an inch or two below her collars is a golden chain tassel which hangs down just past her breasts, at the end of which is a bitten apple pendant. As in the garden, no other jewelry is present upon her wrists or fingers save for her golden wedding band, though her golden crown glitters from where it sits upon a dark head, a ruby crescent at its center that Regina would bet her last dollar is without imperfection. Meanwhile, thick brown hair Regina aches to touch once again is pulled loosely behind her head so that some of her curls hang over her shoulder while the rest spill down well almost to her waist. Subtle cosmetics highlight her striking features, from those large eyes Regina could so easily become lost in to the painted lips she remembers fit so perfectly between her own.

There is no arguing how the Queen's larger than life presence and immaculate dress dominate the room, but to Regina, Red is the real attraction. In such a comparatively simple outfit, her natural beauty is allowed to shine like never before, and it is so luminous as to nearly be blinding. But it is the heartfelt love for Regina written all over her face that is the most arresting feature, and for a moment, a line of panic chases up Regina's spine like the one that hit her when the Queen arrived in the garden after the illicit kiss with Red.

By the time she and Emma reach the center of the room, Regina's heart is beating a mile a minute and she can feel beads of sweat forming on the back of her neck from the intensity of the Queen's unveiled approval and Red's contagious joy.

"Hi!" Mireya greets before her parents can even get a word in edgewise. The young woman is ebullient as ever, and absolutely gorgeous in a flowing, lilac-colored lace gown that is accented by lovely silken white larkspurs along the neckline and at the edges of the sleeves. Her visage illuminated by a joyous smile, she extends both hands out for Regina. "I'm so glad you made it!"

"I'm not one to be impolite these days, my dear," Regina says, tone lacking any chastisement in her amusement as she accepts the proffered hands. In that moment, she's especially grateful to Mireya for providing a much needed injection of levity to stall her mounting emotional response to Red's growing proximity. "I was invited, therefore here I am. And besides, attending this function is the least I can do for the kindness that's been shown Emma and I."

"I think I speak for my parents when I say that it was our pleasure." She then dips into a neat curtsy which Regina, and then Emma in turn, repeat. "I've convinced mother not to embarrass you by formally introducing you tonight." Regina sighs in relief, as does Emma, who'd apparently been acting – and quite well – to prove she was in her element. "Before we mingle, though, I'd like to introduce you _to_ someone."

"The lovely young lady to whom you are engaged, I assume."

Mireya had brought her breakfast again that morning, and they had spoken at length about a few topics, most prominently her pending marriage to the crown princess of Arendelle, who had just sent word of her surprise visit.

Mireya nods as a pretty blush spreads over her cheeks. As if summoned without a word, a radiant beauty emerges from the line of nobles milling about the ballroom. The young lady's hair, nearly as breathtaking as her features, is the color of freshly driven snow mixed with a hint of gold and is plaited into a crowned braid that accentuates a startlingly familiar facial shape. For Regina, it's a flashback to that moment in the woods when she'd realized without having to ask who Mireya was – or rather to whom Mireya belonged. The hair, the clear blue eyes, the tall and wispy frame, and the cream color of her skin clearly identify this girl as Elsa's daughter. But her sire is equally without question through high cheekbones, cleft chin, and perpetually pouty lips Regina could recognize anywhere as derived from the line of Snow White.

Regina can hardly hear her gasp over Emma's at the princess' appearance.

"Ella, this is Regina," Mireya says in introduction, gesturing between Regina and the regally dressed princess before reaching for her beloved's hand. "She's the one I was telling you about. My other mother who hails from parallel world."

Regina is so astounded that she cannot hold her tongue. "My God. You're Emma's, aren't you?" She feels Emma stiffen behind her, which fortunately does not yet draw the princess' attention. Somewhere between the introduction and Regina's response, Emma had ducked out of view using Regina as a shield.

"How did you know?" Ella asks with sharp eyes. "That's not common knowledge. Only my mother and my aunt Anna know the secret of my true parentage."

Regina shrugs. "It's plain as day to me. You look just like her. Though I don't understand how it's possible. Princess Emma is only barely thirty and yet you appear to be nearly a woman come of age."

"I'm seventeen, and shall soon celebrate my eighteenth winter," says Ella, frowning slightly at Regina's contradictory response. "You're not the first to scrutinize the relation. I, myself, inquired as to the discrepancy when I saw a recent portrait of Princess Emma my mother secretly commissioned as a present for Princess Emma's thirty-forth birthday last year."

Regina's brows shoot up at that. _So Emma is older here? Interesting._ She wonders why Emma's age was accelerated by the spell that created this world rather than replicating her to be almost thirty-one as she is in reality. It's yet another quirk of the Wish World she can't explain.

"Mother paid additional gold for the artist to make a duplicate for her own private collection," Ella goes on. "When I questioned her about my absent mother's youth, she confessed with some regret that the Princess was only barely seventeen herself when they met and fell in love."

Emma's fingers tangle into the fabric at the back of Regina's gown at this information, and the reaction betrays an increasingly fraught emotional state. For a moment, Regina worries Emma might make a scene, that she might protest these assertions as patently false and, at best, embarrass them both, or at worst, sully the progress they've made with the Queen and the she has personally made with her daughter. The Savior does well, though, to not allow more than the faint whimper Regina barely hears to escape her lips.

"As for my resemblance to the Princess," Ella continues, "I've been told the same many times. My mother often grows sad when she looks at me, as if she's missing something precious but doesn't want me to feel bad because she recognizes it so strongly in me. I've always known, though, that she was thinking of her lost princess."

"So Emma doesn't know she has another child," Regina supplies, and the fingers clawing into her back tighten to painful levels.

Ella shakes her head mournfully. "Mother refused to tell her when she found discovered the pregnancy. She was already back in Arendelle by then, and was unwilling to upset either of their lives. ' _For royals, duty comes before love, darling._ ' That's what she used to say whenever I'd bring the topic up, only l never believed her. There was a reason Mother never married, and it was because she never let go of her love."

"I wish she'd just told me," Emma says, revealing herself to Ella's utter amazement. "If I'd known she was pregnant, I'd have moved heaven and earth to be with her."

Ella gasps, her hand flying up as if to catch her heart when it leaps out of her chest. "Y-you're...P-princess E-Emm...Emm..."

Even as well as Regina knows Emma's, the woman's expression is hard to discern. There is a mote of joy visible in her eyes, but it's all muddied by hurt and anger that isn't at all directed at Ella.

"Princess Emma? Yeah. That's me."

Regina cranes her head to whisper in Emma's ear, unable to resist annoying her friend. "So you knocked up the Ice Queen? I'm impressed Swan!" Emma flushes beet red as she swats at Regina's shoulder, which causes Regina to grin.

Ella watches all of this in mute awe. "So that means...that means you're m-my..." She trails off, swallowing thickly.

"Your mother," Emma says, and for the first time, the joy starts to win out over the other turbulent emotions. "Apparently so. I mean, I couldn't deny you if I wanted to. Jesus. You look more like me than Henry ever has."

"Like Mireya does me," says the Queen, who has been observing the interaction between Emma and Ella with unfettered fascination. "I have to wonder, Princess Emma, if you used the same trick Red and I did to manage that feat of magic?"

Regina coughs against a bark of laughter. Leave it to the Queen to make such a tawdry reference in public, even if no one else but her understands it.

Emma crosses her arms over her chest, suddenly indignant, as if Elsa's honor still matters to her. "I don't know what that means. We didn't use any tricks. Just good old fashioned…" Regina clears her throat to stop Emma from saying something mortifying in front of Ella. "Love," she finishes, and blushes even deeper at nearly violating Ella's ears.

According to Emma – she tells Regina the whole story later that night – when she was sixteen, she had an accident riding her favorite steed and nearly died. The animal wasn't so lucky. Emma's father had to put him down while his daughter languished in a month long coma. The very morning she came out of it, spring dawned within Misthaven along with the arrival Queen Elsa, who wished to shore up an old alliance struck between King David and Princess Anna when they had shared an adventure together. Elsa had felt it was important for the relationship between their kingdoms to involve both of the actual ruling monarchs, so she left her sister in charge of Arendelle in her stead and make the trip personally. It was, according to Emma, love at first sight, as if nature was woven around the blossoming of their soul-deep bond.

Seeing as how they were so very much alike, particularly where magic was concerned, the two spent inordinate swaths of time together when Elsa was not busy interacting with King David and Queen Snow or attending one of the many councils, banquets, and balls jointly organized by the White Kingdom and the delegation from Arendelle. Over the course of what was initially planned as a month long visit which stretched into six, they explored their abilities, honing their talents to the point they overcame their fears, and even unlocking new ones that excited them to the point of hugs and as-of-yet innocent kisses.

Elsa, being as much older than Emma as the Queen is Red, concealed her feelings out of her rigid sense of self-control and her respect for the significant age difference. For her part, Emma did the same out of fear, not of Elsa, but for the maddening intensity of her feelings.

"It was like I stopped being able to breathe unless she was close," Emma says to her, eyes so incredibly sad at what she's been deprived of. Regina imagines it's what she looked like the night after being discovered by Mireya in the woods and then finding out about Tinker Bell's unforgivable blunder. "I was in awe of her beauty, her grace, her _power,_ " Emma adds, tone shifting into tender devotion Regina has only ever heard the woman use regarding their son. Certainly Emma has never spoken of the one-handed rapscallion with such undeniable longing. "I spent every waking moment thinking of her, and nearly every night dreaming of summoning enough courage to properly kiss her. I think I loved her from the moment I laid eyes on her, but I just couldn't make a move. So I waited for a sign, any indication from her that she might be receptive."

Eventually, thought, Emma's patience expired. She knew Elsa's unflinching sense of propriety would preclude her from acting upon the feelings that simmered between them, as she likely considered the young princess' immaturity a stumbling block to taking the next logical step in their relationship. And so about three months in to Elsa's stay, and in her typical brash style, Emma slipped into the visiting monarch's chambers in the middle of the night to confront the issue head on. Tempers flared and passions rose in tandem as they are wont to do. That night, they made love for the first time.

When Elsa left abruptly without a goodbye some three months later, Emma was heartbroken. She hadn't known that Elsa was pregnant. Hadn't even known they had True Love as there were no curses for her to break to prove it with, nor were there magical fireworks to announce the birth of the most powerful of all magicks which is apparently capable of helping same sex couples conceive biological children. All she'd known was that Elsa abandoned her, absconded like a thief in the night having stolen her heart, and that it was more than likely her own fault. She'd spent months wallowing in depression, blaming herself for driving Elsa away with her gross inexperience with sexual intimacy, her annoying clinginess, and her insufferable naivety.

A year passed before Elsa braved a letter in which she apologized for her haste in leaving while also maintaining her decision to end the affair was the right one for both of them. Emma hadn't the heart to respond with anything but her acceptance and her ostensible agreement. By then, she'd met Baelfire, the brave young knight who had escaped the clutches of his father, the Dark One, and pledged himself to the Royal House of White. Bae's easy smile and dashing swagger eased the pain of Elsa's betrayal and helped reconstitute the pile of rubble that was Emma's confidence the Ice Queen left behind in her wake. Over the course of time, she and Elsa exchanged a slew of cordial letters, but neither mentioned their intimacy again.

Emma learned via Ella as they talked privately during the ball that Elsa withheld her perpetual grief over losing Emma out of shame for her behavior, while Emma confessed that she'd never stopped loving Elsa but had needed her former lover to be the one reaching out for her after she'd done the initiating the first time. Both were too stubborn to give in, so they both moved on as much as they could. While Emma married Bae and had Henry, Elsa devoted herself to ruling Arendelle and seeing to her daughter and sister's continual happiness.

During the days that follow, Regina doesn't see a lot of Emma. In the wake of Ella's bombshell revelation, the blonde is either getting to know her newfound daughter much in the same way Regina does Mireya, or can be found strolling the grounds with the Queen consort or the Queen herself – both of whom have taken an immediate shine to the Princess. That leaves Regina with a lot of time on her hands. Which is dangerous indeed.

Thankfully, Mireya goes beyond the call of duty to occupy her with trivial activities such as trips to the kitchens to cook dinner together or long, meandering tours of the grounds. Mireya also takes Regina up on her offer for advice over the economic quandaries her family, and the kingdom at large, is dealing with. Together they dig into the ledgers and are able to connect the dots between a budget surplus in the agricultural funds that dwindles to a deficit within the span of two months and a lavish expansion of Baron Blitz's winter estate. Regina will never forget how Mireya glowed under the praise of the Queen upon presenting the findings. Business is not their only mutual passion, either.

Mireya, she discovers, is a bookworm like her, just without Belle's lack of common sense. She is pleased to note how progressively educated her daughter is, and that they share many of the same interests. Together, they discuss in detail three books they read, one per week, on the topics of ethics in magical experimentation, the science of transmutational alchemy, and the political theory guiding successful monarchies.

But the best part of her month, without a doubt, is breakfast of a morning with a girl who refuses to let her help prepare the meals, is so genuinely happy that Regina finds her presence more bolstering than the strongest coffee, and looks at her a way she isn't sure Henry ever has, even when their relationship was at its peak. During the month furlough in the Wish World, Regina lives for those morning meals with Mireya, and of a night, she occasionally fantasizes about breakfasts with her own Mireya, younger, maybe five or six, but every bit as vivacious and beautiful and _hers –_ hers and Ruby's.

As for Red, when the Queen consort is not attending her duties or bonding with her goddaughter, she often joins Regina on horseback riding excursions with Mireya. Sometimes rather than riding, she runs as the wolf. Once, Mireya even joins her younger mother on four legs as they race to the nearest village from the far side of the bridge joining the citadel to the mainland. It stuns Regina that the horse she's assigned doesn't fear the enormous beast keeping stride with it's impressively long gallops, and when she inquires about it, Red tells her it's because she spends time amongst their horses from foal to adulthood to get them used to her.

When they aren't afield, they meet regularly in the gardens after lunch, and though no more kisses happen, Regina finds herself falling more in love each day. She has to remind herself nightly that Red isn't hers, that she needs to save her affection for Ruby, but doing so is pointless. There is no distinguishing them anymore, just as for Red, there is no distinguishing her from the Queen. Loving Red is loving Ruby. And while that should be problematic, it just isn't. Not to her heart, at least. Her brain has some trouble reconciling the intensity of her feelings when contrasted with the span of their acquaintance, but it's largely overruled by her soul-deep certainty that, for once, she's doing something right. And it is so, so right. Her counterpart had been right that first day. The hole in her heart is Red-shaped, and over the course of the month she spends with a Red that isn't even hers, she can't even tell there had ever been a void there in the first place.

Also, during those afternoon conversations, Regina learns a great deal about Red's background – and Ruby's by consequence. She hadn't know about Peter's tragic death, or that Ruby had to kill her own mother to protect Snow, but finding those things out does yet more to convince her how suited they are for one another. It really is sort of astounding how their lives parallel. From the deaths of their first loves, to their tragedy-defined introductions to Snow White, to their layered personalities, to the deep-seated Mommy issues that made them into insecure women, they have enough similarities to fundamentally understand one another and just the right amount of difference for the attraction to be intense. They are lock and key, each to the other, and it's miraculous and awe-inspiring and _terrifying_. Mostly the former two, but the latter is there, lurking in the back of her mind, always reminding her of her checkered past with love.

The Queen also checks in daily, though her visits are far more formal. Regina gets the sense the woman has picked up on her discomfort at interacting with _herself_ , and withdrawn a step to put her at ease. And while she'd wanted to purge herself of the unease in order to better know her elder self, she simply can't get past it. Bonding with herself is too weird a concept for her to wrap her head around in so short a time frame, which is strange in and of itself because of how easy it has been for her to do so with Mireya and Red. Part of the Queen's distancing, perhaps even the main reason, is to benefit Regina's relationship with Red and Mireya, that allowing her to have alone time with them without the Queen's presence will aid in her continually deepening acceptance of their undeniable belonging in her life. If that is so, of which she is fairly certain, she owes yet another debt to the woman she can never hope to repay.

In terms of progress on the return trip home, Prince Henry makes his first of three scheduled visits four days after Ella's arrival. Regina and Emma make themselves scarce the entire time the delegation from Misthaven is present in the castle. Those two days were the only ones they enjoy any quality interaction for two whole weeks aside from that first day. Busy as they are with their expanded families, there isn't much spare time to commiserate on their burgeoning fortunes. They use the first two negotiations as an excuse to catch up on the progress they'd made with their recently discovered offspring. The second, though, Regina is required to attend for the purpose of confessing her role in David and Snow's deaths. That isn't a pleasant experience for Regina. Henry's hatred of her hearkens back to the year before the Dark Curse was broken, and if it wasn't for Red, Mireya, and Emma's support and encouragement, she probably wouldn't have made it through mentally intact.

But make it she does. And eventually a month has come and gone as if it were only a few days. It is time for Regina and Emma to depart the Wish World so they can return to the very real Storybrooke, and to their very real son. The final negotiations with Henry have gone according to plan, and he has agreed to accept her confession of regicide on the basis that she be surrendered to his custody within a fortnight. To escape that horrible fate, a cover story has been prepared to explain her escape.

Before transporting Jefferson to the castle, the Queen uses a glamour spell on herself to render her Regina's age. She then makes an appearance with him on the White Kingdom side of the border. To ensure they are both seen, they meet in the woods outside a sparsely populated village Emma had pointed out as the home of one of the kingdom's most prominent noblemen, a man who has the ear of Prince Henry after the deaths of his grandparents and the disappearance of his mother. They also cause a lot of unnecessary noise to attract the attention of bystanders.

Only when there were at least three witnesses within earshot does the Queen shout at Jefferson, "You buffoon! She wasn't supposed to find out I escaped. You were given explicit instructions to use the simulacrum potion on that maid I killed _while_ I stole the most prized possession of that witch wearing my face!"

Jefferson trembled with terror that is, according to him, only half-acted. "I...I forgot. I'm s-sorry."

"No matter," the Queen – as Regina – sighs. "She'll never find me where I'm going. That hat now if you please. I can hear the rabble approaching, and if you don't hurry, we'll both burn."

At that prompt, Jefferson uses the hat to portal them into the it's nerve center, a room with more doors than can be counted, each of which leads to another world. They make a few jumps before returning nearby the Royal Castle, no worse for wear. Though the Queen is wearing a strange expression that Regina can't interpret.

In any case, the stage for her exit is set by that little drama. Given how rapidly such newsworthy gossip tends to spread, it's likely to circulate its way through the White Kingdom in days, and on into the inner circle of Prince Henry, who would likely initiate a fruitless search for her. Perhaps the hotheaded lad would even level new accusations against the Queen that could then be plausibly denied and backed by eyewitnesses within his own citizenry.

Thus, tomorrow morning Regina would finally be going home, free from the need to worry about the consequences of her rash but effective actions upon the people she would be regrettably leaving behind. If only she felt as excited about that as she had only a month prior. How was she supposed to endure never seeing Mireya again? Or Red? They have taken up residence in her heart already, having burrowed down so deep she isn't sure she how she will cope being so permanently sundered from them.

At the same time, she longs for home, for her house with air conditioning and modern appliances and indoor plumbing. She is also more than ready to throw herself back into work, slaving away to make Storybrooke a safer, more prosperous town for her citizens to live in. Her sister was back in Storybrooke as well, and they had much unfinished business between them. Another thing Regina has learned during this trip is how vital family was to her mental and emotional health. As frustrating as Zelena was to deal with at times, she was flesh and blood, and despite their differences, Regina loves her.

More than anything, though, she is ready to have her son in her arms again. Only, she knows that long awaited embrace will be followed by a conversation she is more than a little reticent to have. With only the best intentions, Henry had done something awful, and there was no predicting the ramifications of his choice upon her future happiness.

What if Ruby refused to be swayed from Dorothy? What if so much time between them has been squandered that their True Love is somehow diminished? Or even worse, what if they fall madly in love as Regina expects, hopes, and prays to happen, and Ruby still chooses to stay with Dorothy because of her damned unshakable sense of loyalty? Regina is pretty sure that would crush her. Against her better judgment, she's allowed herself to hope again, and to have it so cruelly ripped away yet again may very well send her spiraling toward old inclinations she has worked so hard for so long to overcome.

Conflicted beyond her ability to cope, she tosses and turns the entire night before her departure until mercifully exhausting herself just before sunrise. She wakes well into the morning, and unlike every morning the previous month, there is no Mireya to greet her with breakfast. She's slept in too late and missed the final opportunity to share that habitual bonding time with the child she desperately yearns to keep as a permanent fixture in her life. But she can't. Because Mireya isn't hers to keep. The thought wrenches a sob from her lips.

Sitting upon the edge of the bed, head tilted up as if in supplication to whatever deity may be observing her sorrow, she cries over what she'll be so soon walking away from. The tears don't end until her assigned maid knocks upon the door to inquire whether or not she requires assistance dressing this morning. Regina declines as politely as she can manage, though she knows the maid's subsequent departure is a temporary reprieve. However much she wishes to avoid what's to come, she must, as Emma might say, "woman the hell up" and face saying goodbye to the significant chunk of her heart she'll be leaving behind with Mireya and Red. The time for sentimentality is over.

With great reluctance, Regina rises from the bed sluggishly and takes a shaky breath as she dries her dampened cheeks. She never imagined it could be so hard to go back home.


	8. One Final Gift

**AN -** There is every chance that those who didn't enjoy the previous chapter won't like the rest of the story. Fair warning.

* * *

 **Chapter 8** \- One Final Gift

When Regina exits her chambers a few minutes later, she's arrayed in expectation of her destination rather than befitting her location. Gone are the flashy gowns and lavish leathers she'd adopted during her extended stay in the Wish World, and she feels somewhat conflicted at their absence.

Modern clothing is utilitarian and far more comfortable, but she'd just begun to reacquaint herself with dressing to the nines. She'd even grown fond of the inane chatter of the servant assigned to her, who helped whenever she wished to wear gowns requiring more than two hands to step into due to highly delicate seams or buttons and ties she couldn't reach without dislocating her elbow and shoulder joints – or using magic, which does away with half the fun. Having another person buzzing around her chambers so early of a morn was a welcome reminder of her early days as Queen after Leopold's death.

Back then, her handmaid, Nora, was a transplant from the north with pale hair and gray eyes whose sharp tongue and quick wit reminded Regina of herself before the madness set in. Their spirited conversations helped jump-start her critical thinking so that she was always prepared to deal with guileful nobles either baldly jockeying for her favor or stealthily plotting her demise. And while Beatrice, the Queen's personal maid tasked with double duty during Regina's stay, was no Nora, their interactions were a pleasant beginning to yet another day in a foreign world, surrounded by walking, talking reminders that her life could have been so very different if only Tinker Bell wasn't a bush-league fairy who'd fished her wand and wings out of a discarded box of Cracker Jacks.

Mostly, though, Regina simply missed how her wardrobe represented so much more than an artistic method of concealing her body from public consumption. With the right outfit, she could capture the attention of every roving eye within the room she had just entered, replacing spouses and lovers within the valuable headspace of those in attendance at a state organized ball. And she could serve a visible notice to noble and commoner alike that she was the Queen, a woman of unquestioned authority to whom all bowed and to whom all owed allegiance, and that she was not to be trifled with. Going back to pantsuits and modest dresses was going to be an adjustment to be sure. But it wasn't as if she'd not done it once before...

Outside her chambers, Regina is immediately greeted by the Queen, who is loitering in the hallway, leaning against the far wall with an expression of pure boredom upon her face. Obviously the elder woman had arrived sometime between Beatrice knocking on Regina's door and her abbreviated attempt to conceal the evidence of her emotional turmoil over impending goodbyes to two precious someones. She simply cannot abide Mireya's or Red's last image of her to be of a weak-willed woman torn between two worlds, nor can she allow herself to succumb to temptation to stay a bit longer should they appear as miserably sad as she will undoubtedly be. So she did what she does best, adorn a mask of perfect poise and confidence.

That the Queen has decided to make an unannounced visit not two seconds after said mask falls into place is really not that big a shock to Regina considering how fate seems to love making jokes at her expense. No sooner had she collected herself emotionally than she has to confront the only person who will be able to see past her carefully constructed facade. Of course, there is also the fact to consider that her alternate has a knack for sneaking up on her unawares, as if the woman derived much satisfaction from being able to surprise her younger counterpart. If the Queen can be used as a basis for comparison, it is apparently likely the petty need for dominance will remain prevalent into her dotage. Perhaps she can spend her twilight years reigning over a ward-sized empire of the nursing home she'll no doubt have personally commissioned now that Storybrooke's population once more has to contend with Father Time. The thought is as comforting as it is macabre. At least there is one thing she knows age won't rob her of...

The Queen is not empty-handed, either. In her hand is a leather-bound tome upon whose spine she impatiently taps her highly manicured fingertips against. No audible greeting is offered by the monarch aside from offering the book to Regina with an inviting smile.

"What's this?" Regina asks as she accepts it.

"A parting gift, if you will," says the Queen, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Something to remember me by. Red told me what you discussed with her the day after your arrival..." She gives Regina a suggestive wink, "Regarding Mireya's conception, that is."

Regina blushes at the reference, despite there not being a soul within earshot. God forbid that Emma should find out how Red and the Queen had conceived. Adolescent as the woman is, she would likely hold the information over Regina's head for the rest of her natural life. She can already imagine the cringe-worthy jokes that would be made at her expense.

"Oh, yes, that..." she says, and then pauses to check the hallways to ensure they are alone. When she finds the area otherwise unoccupied, she leans in toward the elder woman and speaks lightly. "How could I forget that illuminating conversation. It felt wrong for me to press for any sort of sordid details with Red, but you are another story. Tell me, was it as awkward as I imagined it would be when you tried it?"

"Heavens, yes," the Queen says. "Poor Red was simply overwhelmed the first time. Luckily for me she's an extraordinarily fast learner. Now _I'm_ the one that howls when she's in heat."

Subconsciously envious, Regina huffs with displeasure. "Yes, lucky for you..."

Having picked up on her reaction, the Queen smiles smugly. "Oh, don't get all bent out of shape. I was just giving you a preview of what's waiting for you should you discover your courage in the near future and decide to take what's rightfully yours."

Regina leans in even closer, a conspiratorial smile quirking up her lips. "Who's to say I've not already done precisely that?"

The Queen hums approvingly. "In that case..." She interrupts her drawl to point toward the book with a loaded look, "Get ready to feel things you never imagined were possible. I can attest from ample experience that none of our past lovers are worthy to even breathe Red's rarified air. Why, I once dislocated four toes because she made them curl so hard."

A wholly inappropriate thought pops into Regina's mind unbidden, and she shudders as a wave of anticipatory desire swells up within her lower abdomen. She sees Ruby astride her hips, marvelously bare as she languidly rides out a glorious orgasm that leaves her entire body quaking. The warmth in Regina's belly swirls vigorously as she envisions how Ruby's face might look like as she keens and groans through the aftershocks, and it begins to spread southward as she imagines what their mingled arousal would smell like, surely something tangy and wild and delicious enough to make her mouth water. Not one to normally become aroused at a mere fantasy, she nonetheless feels herself begin to dampen.

The Queen's low, rumbling chuckle is the only thing that saves Regina from ruining her underwear. Broken out of the fog of that powerfully tantalizing vision, Regina's cheeks turn pink a second time as she catches the Queen's eyes. There is no denying what she'd been thinking of, not to this woman who's thought the same things as her – probably even worse things – and then got to actually live them out. _Damn her_.

Regina clears her throat, chagrined at being caught in such a naughty daydream. She has half a mind to play dumb and pretend anyway, but decides against it. If anyone can understand her mind and body having such an instinctual response to thoughts of her True Love, it's the Queen. After all, they are both mystically and magically bound to the same woman.

"Well..." she says, voice wavering a tad, "if that's true, I am certainly already looking forward to it." Which is as much as she is willing to admit at the moment, so she hastily changes the subject. "But before I leave, I should take this opportunity to properly thank you."

"Whatever for?" the Queen asks, head tilting just so.

"For showing kindness to me when you were not obligated. For telling me the truth even when you knew I wouldn't want to hear it. For knowing me better than I know myself." Regina nibbles at her lip before launching into the next part. "Mostly for arranging my visit with Red that first day, and the encouragement you offered beforehand to open myself up to the hope she represents. I wouldn't have been receptive if it wasn't for you. Anyone else's assertions would have meant less than nothing to me. But yours counted, if only because I can trust your word regarding our fragile heart. You alone have experienced the same hurts I have, and you alone know how easily breakable I am despite cocksure displays to the contrary. Your reassurance gave me courage to face a destiny that quite frankly terrified me, and I don't know how I can ever repay you for any of it."

As the Queen listens to the speech, her demeanor softens. That fond expression for Regina spreads over her visage as she reaches out to touch Regina's forearm. "You're very welcome...for all of the above. As for any debt you think you owe, I'd say it's forgiven out of self-affinity alone, but you wouldn't accept that – nor would I for that matter. If you truly wish to repay me, you can do so by refusing to settle for anything less than the best for yourself. I didn't, and neither should you. So be strong, and do what must be done to get your happy ending. Just as I did, you deserve it, dammit!"

Rather than reject the contact, Regina takes the Queen's hand, which was lying atop her arm, into hers. It's the first time she's allowed herself to really touch the woman, and even though it's strange to be holding her own hand without...holding her own hand...she also finds it unpredictably soothing.

This gracefully aged woman is living proof that she was never without hope of redemption, and that happiness was always just within her grasp if she ever managed to extract her head out of her own ass long enough to recognize it. For that reason alone, the Queen has earned her respect. But what's more, in accepting the Queen, she is at last learning to accept herself, and that comes with a gut-twisting awareness of how very stupid she'd been to sunder herself from her evil half.

However much she wants to live up the expectations of those that matter to her, her son preeminently, she's not a whole person without the Evil Queen residing within her psyche. The Queen is evidence enough of that. The way her eyes glinted with deviant enthusiasm as she spun Snow and Charming's death for her own – and the Kingdom's – benefit, even though she knew it would hurt Red, screamed to Regina that it was the darkness in control. And yet the next moment she was cooing softly as she held her distraught wife, such love in her eyes that Regina could hardly stand to gaze upon it for the raw _want_ it provoked in her own heart. If offered Jekyll's potion, the Queen no doubt would refuse it outright, having hardly even been tempted because she is happy with who she is and has no desire to change. And why should she when her family has taken all of her traits, good and bad alike, fully into account and yet loves her unconditionally? The woman would be a fool to question such devotion.

Back in Storybrooke before all of this delightful mess, Regina had believed she was getting a handle on who she was apart from the meddling influences in her life that had turned her cold and sour and so very _angry_. But she now she knows how convincingly she'd deceived herself in regards to the darkness inside her. To alleviate her guilt, she'd told herself it wasn't some intrinsic trait written into her genetic material and grafted upon her soul, but that it had been beaten and manipulated into her, and therefore was not wholly her responsibility. Now that she's met the Queen, she can no longer deny how big a lie that is. The darkness has always been there, has always been a part of her, just a latent one that required ignition to explode into a consuming fire that burns and burns and burns until everything around her is in ashes. And if that is so, if the darkness is inherent rather than inculcated, that means there is no getting rid of it.

The thought should evoke nothing short of total panic, but it doesn't even faze her. She has found something to cling to strong enough to counter the alarming knowledge that the monster inside her can never be banished. Dark as she may be down to the very marrow of her bones, down to her very depths of her soul, there is someone out there capable of not only knowing her without being disgusted by her true self, but who will actually accept her for it...even love her for it. For Red, sweet Red, with that gorgeous smile and those gentle green eyes also lives in the shadows, and like her Queen carefully straddles the line between good and evil without wholly giving other to either. And if Red so loves the Queen, assuming what Regina has been told about True Love being universal, doesn't that logically extend to her and Ruby? Against her better judgment, Regina believes that it does.

How unfair, then, would it be for her to ask Ruby to love her when she is at present so woefully incomplete? Wouldn't it show just how insecure she is about their destined connection – and about her own worthiness of it – were she to show up in Oz half the woman she ought to be? And how can she possibly ask Ruby to walk away from a relationship that is by all accounts perfectly functional to be with a woman who is so afraid of herself that she went to, what are in retrospect, insane lengths to cull the undesirable parts she was totally convinced made her _dysfunctional_?

The idea is absurd once she really thinks about it, which leaves her with only two options, to give up hope for what the Queen has with Red or to finally do what she should have done after Daniel died. Instead of confronting the inner darkness that arose from that tragedy, she'd stuffed it down, corralled it until a suitable time arose to at last unleash it as a weapon designed to destroy all those who wronged her. As a result, it corrosively deteriorated her heart within a seething cauldron of hatred that cast blame on everyone else for the tragedy but herself. Deep down in her bones, she knows what option she will choose. There isn't really even a contest. It's time, at long last, to stop running away from and rather run _towards_ herself. For if she's to win Ruby's heart, it's not going to be as the Regina that once loved Daniel or the Evil Queen that arose from the ashes of his death, nor can she be Mayor Mills, the woman who was an uncomfortable amalgamation of the two. When she goes to Oz, it has to be as a new and improved Regina: the mother of Henry; sister of Zelena; friend of Emma, Snow, and David; and resident badass Sorceress from Storybrooke. The heroine _and_ the villain, having fully reconciled herself to never arriving at either polar destination of all good or all evil, but a little bit of both. And the best bits at that.

The Queen _is_ that woman. The Queen is who she should be emulating instead of harboring mistrust of, as she'd initially done, which kept her from fully embracing what the woman symbolizes. The Queen is Regina healed, not of her scars that will always remain, but of the terminal self-loathing that prevents her from loving herself as she ought, everyone and their inconsequential opinions be damned.

And _that_ is why she is willing, at long last, to take this final step to acknowledge her paradoxically fake and yet somehow achingly real alternate self. It's late in the game to be making the gesture, but as the proverb first espoused by Chaucer so aptly declares, better late than never.

Grasping the Queen's hand firmly, Regina nods her oath before speaking it. "I will. I'll do whatever it takes, and I won't give up until we're as we're supposed to be: together forever. I swear it upon my own life and upon the exceedingly precious currency of Daniel's memory."

The Queen squeezes Regina's hand and gazes upon her with unmitigated pride that makes her heart swell. "I'm glad to hear that," the elegantly aged woman says, "and not only for your sake, but for Red's. She may proclaim to love Dorothy, but there are cracks in the foundation of that relationship that can't ever be sealed. As I'm sure she told you, only you can make her truly happy."

"Which is precisely what I aim to do."

"That is most excellent news, and may I say that I wish you all the best. I sincerely hope for you and your Red to find what I have with mine."

"Thank you. I hope the same. If I'm being honest, I envy what you two have."

The Queen leans back against the wall, a wistful expression overtaking her. "Sometimes even I can hardly believe my good fortune. When I met my Red, I was ready to die, a broken shell of a woman not worth saving. Fate deemed otherwise. Call me a hopeless romantic, but I am convinced it will do the same for you. Things are going to turn out just fine. You'll see." She begins to say something else but is interrupted by a door opening nearby. They both turn to the noise to see Emma step out of her chambers looking more like the tart blonde Regina is accustomed to in her jeans and a burgundy pea coat with her hair tied back in a ponytail. "Now, if you'll excuse me..." When Regina smiles her assent, the Queen ducks her head respectfully and then lasers in on Emma. "Princess Emma!" Her Majesty's call has Emma's face lighting up. "Good morning! I must say, it has been an absolute delight having you here as our guest."

"Likewise, your Highness," Emma says, grinning from ear to ear as she takes the arm offered to her by the Queen. They fall into step side-by-side, then, and chat with animated amiability as they meander the convoluted path from the Royal Guest Wing to the Courtyard.

Regina lingers just behind the pair, feeling a mix of emotions she can't quite untangle. She's unbelievably excited to be going home, but at the same time, she will miss this place severely. And as she follows along, she becomes so lost in the memories she's made of Mireya and Red, that doesn't even hear anyone approach.

"Penny for your thoughts."

The intrusion of Red's warm voice causes Regina to startle, and she whips her head around to find the Queen consort sliding in beside her to match her stride-for-stride. Glorious mane of wild curls tamed into an elegant up-do, Red is dressed in a marvelous jade gown crafted of spun silk that makes her eyes sparkle like dazzling emeralds. Her beauty arrests Regina's heart and, for umpteenth time, steals her breath away. Wonder among wonders it is to her how she could ever deserve a peerless beauty like Red's...or a love.

"I'm afraid they're not worth that much," she says, averting her gaze. Incredible, she thinks, how quickly her resolve to move past self-loathing flags when confronted by what she's been so cruelly deprived of. Animus swelling in her chest, she imagines Tinker Bell to be floating before her in fairy form...just small enough for her to squash the damn bug between her palms when she claps them with terrific force. Oh, how she would revel in the feel of fairy blood and bones coating her skin! _Let's see someone clap you back from that, you miserable little insect!_ Her imaginary self says, smirking with delight at the ironic mode of the fairy's demise.

Red makes a noise of disagreement that snaps Regina out of the bitter turn her thoughts have taken. "Nonsense. I'd surrender all the gold in this kingdom if it meant you not hiding from me."

"Is that what it costs you with the Queen?" she asks, smirking to hide her unease at wanting to do the opposite of Red. By now, Red knows her well enough that she can see through the attempted deflection.

"Funny, but no," Red says with a grin, and Regina is relieved at not being called out. "Painful as they are to digest at times, she gives them to me at no charge."

After humming thoughtfully, trying to imagine having that kind of freedom, Regina asks, "It doesn't bother you at all to receive such candor from a woman of my questionable morality?"

"Not for one second. I'd rather she call me a furry, wet-nosed, smelly mutt to my face than stew on her anger until it festers. That's when it becomes a real problem. Remember that when you find her...me..." Red pauses to gesticulate aimlessly, and Regina tucks her bottom lip securely between her teeth to stop from grinning at how Red's face adorably twists in frustration as she adds, " _G_ _rr_ , the other me."

"Ruby, you mean?" Regina supplies, the corners of her eyes crinkling with humor.

"Yes, thank you," Red sighs, and then smiles in exasperation at her own bumbling. "Sorry. As you might have noticed, I can be a bit dense."

Hand coming up to her chest, Regina puts on being shocked. "And here I had so mistakenly pegged you as a certified genius!"

Red purses her lips, eyes narrowing into slits at the teasing that's become part of their routine. " _Oooh_...you really are such an _ass_! I swear if Mireya wouldn't hate me forever, I'd claw your eyes out right now."

"Is that so?" Regina's brows arch as smug smile settles across her lips. "Well, all I have to say to that is: bring it on, bitch!"

" _Whoa_ , hey, now!" Red squawks, looking both offended and amused at the same time. "Best watch out. This bitch bites, too." To emphasize the point she bares her unnaturally white teeth and clicks them together.

Regina shudders, eyes lidded with anticipation. " _Mmmm_. That's what I'm counting on, darling. As _you_ might know, I have on occasion transmogrified myself into a black-coated panther. So tell me, does the doggy like to eat a little pus..."

Red gasps, interrupting the lewd remark Regina was about to make as she covers her mouth, feigning being scandalized. The bright pink in her cheeks spreads down her long neck and onto her chest, giving her a flushed look that is far too becoming.

"Regina! The mouth on you…"

Regina grins, feeling playful all of the sudden. "Something with which you ought to be intimately acquainted."

"Oh, gods, you're incorrigible," Red groans, though she smiles in spite of her embarrassment. "You're just like her, you know? So bad."

"I do try my best," Regina says as she tosses her hair and juts her chin out as if proud of the comparison. Which she is. A month ago, she would've probably turned someone into a newt for daring to liken her to the Queen, but with all she's learned from the woman having fundamentally altered her perception, she now sees it as a badge of honor.

Red, trying to be serious, is barely able to smother her laughter at Regina's antics. "And don't I know it. Remember that servant you _both_ terrified within ten minutes of each other? The poor fellow that had to go change his britches because he did it right after he said it?"

A bark of laughter erupts from Regina as she remembers exactly what Red is talking about. She'd been royally pissed at Emma for a shameful snafu at a formal breakfast with the Royal Family which was also attended by Abigail and Princess Ella. As the blonde was shoveling a heaping spoonful of cranberry marmalade into her mouth, the spoon slipped and the entire blob was deposited upon the pristine white bodice Regina had worn. Directly on her boobs! And then Emma, eyes huge in her embarrassment, tried to wipe it off right there in front of their hosts! She'd been practically groping the girls as Regina tried to fight her off, and what made it a thousand times worse was that it all happened in front an audience. Both Red and the Queen were trying to contain their riotous laughter with varying degrees of success while Abigail ducked her head so she could laugh without anyone seeing, though the shaking of her shoulders betrayed her amusement. Meanwhile Mireya and her intended were laughing behind their gloved hands. It was mortifying!

On the verge of being enraged, Regina dismissed herself to change. Thundering her way down the corridor toward her chambers, she turned a corner and plowed into a servant on his way to some or other chore that Regina did not care to find out about. Not when he, too, got a handful of the girls as he collided with her.

Upon recovering his balance, the man glanced up into the most withering glare Regina had leveled upon a human being since she was having people flogged for even whispering the name Snow White in her vicinity. He cursed so loudly upon realizing who he'd inadvertently groped that even Red heard from a corridor away.

" _You'd best watch your grubby mitts!_ " she exploded, uncaring that the whole thing wasn't on purpose and was almost certainly her fault. " _The next time you dare lay hands on any other woman in such a way I'll chop them off with the dullest knife I can lay my hands on and then feed them to you fingers first, one at time, until nothing is left but the thumbs, which I'll gouge your wandering eyes out with and then feed those to you as well! Do you understand me?!_ " When the man just stood there gaping, she drew herself up to her full height, now red-faced in her fury. " _I said, do...you...understand...me?!_ " With each of the final four words, she stepped closer and closer until she right in the poor wretch's face, up so close so could see the sweat bead upon temples and the utter terror in his eyes.

" _Y-y-yes, your Ma-ma-majesty,_ " he stuttered, trembling like a leaf in autumn. She'd been sure she heard his knees knocking.

" _Good,_ " she said, " _now...GET THE HELL OUT OF MY SIGHT!_ "

The man jumped as if a canon blasted at his ass, and as he turned and bolted away, she'd caught a whiff of foulness and automatically realized what happened. The whole ordeal then struck her so funny that she bent over at the waist, cackling like a maniac until her stomach ached. She was still laughing when Red found her a minute or so later, her keen hearing having picked up on the man's shout and Regina's subsequent tirade all the way from the dining area. After filling Red on the reason behind it, the Queen consort giggled with her own amusement and then relayed the probably reason for the servant's 'accident.'

Come to find out, earlier that very morning he'd dropped a one-of-kind vase and shattered it into a million pieces right in front of the Queen and her family on their way to breakfast. The Queen was so livid, she tore into him before Red or Mireya could even blink. If the language the Queen used in her verbal assault was any indication, it was only due to their intervention that the fool was spare incineration on the spot.

Regina catches Red's eyes as they both relive the hilarious situation, and then they halt as both crack up into peals of laughter. It's not the first time she's shared such relaxed, intimate jesting with Red. The woman has a way of making her laugh like no one else. Well, except maybe for Ruby.

During the Curse, half of Regina's morning fun was listening to Ruby banter with Granny. The two strong-willed women could rival her for one-liners, and indeed, some of the colorful insults she adopted were picked up from the countless mornings she loitered around the diner longer than necessary when the Lucas women got into a heated row. The madder Ruby got, the funnier she was. Sometimes it was all Regina could do not to laugh out loud at a particularly creative rejoinder Ruby launched at her caustic Grandmother. To hide her amusement Regina would smile into her her coffee cup or use the morning paper as a shield lest anyone watching think she might actually enjoy spending time around in the quaint establishment.

Even when not bickering with the elder Lucas, Ruby was a riot to be around. Her sense of humor was more bawdy than Regina's, and far less dry, which meant they played off of one another seamlessly. Of course, it didn't hurt that of everyone in town, Ruby was the only person remotely near her age that didn't cower or seethe with hatred at the sight of her. Quite unexpectedly, Ruby treated her with very little difference than she did Mary Margaret, and even seemed to prefer Regina to the rabble that ogled her admittedly impressive assets on a daily basis. They got along so well that with Ruby, Regina actually could let her guard down just a tad and could be Regina for a while, not the dreaded Mayor Mills who had a stick so far up her ass it tickled the roof of her mouth. Frankly, it was that combination of Ruby's singular ability to make her smile and laugh with her total lack of fear that had Regina seriously contemplating replacing Graham as her standby lover with the extremely gregarious and equally gorgeous waitress.

Red was exactly the same. She refused to be intimidated, called Regina out when she was being an obnoxious asshole, and traded verbal barbs with the dexterity of a seasoned debater. It was easy to see why the Queen loved her so much when Regina herself had all but succumbed to the woman's undeniable charms. But there was something in the back of her mind that kept her honest, that kept her from allowing her growing feelings for Red to replace the affinity she'd developed for Ruby back before the Curse broke and Regina became number one on the list of Storybrooke's Most Wanted. The only reason she didn't feel like a completely disgusting piece of shit for falling for Red was because she knew there was as little difference between Red and Ruby as there is between herself and the Queen, which is to say practically none save for their divergent paths. Essentially they were the same person. Red had all of Ruby's traits, she just expressed some of them more abundantly because she'd settled into her happy ending with her True Love and felt free to act and speak however she desired. That exact effect is what Regina wants to provide Ruby, and if the way Red is laughing at present is any indication, she already has a leg up on the competition.

"Gods, I'm gonna miss having you here," Red says, wiping at her eyes once their humor has died down. Feeling the same, the statement sends pangs of longing through Regina's heart. They resume their walk then, having feel behind Regina and Emma so that the pair have disappeared around a corner at a nearby intersection of hallways. "You're just as funny as Regina is," Red says as they walk, "so I've probably laughed more this month than I ever have."

"I'll miss being here, too," Regina says, and the admission has her once again at odds with her desire to return home. "With you, the Queen, and Mireya, I've been able to just...be _me._ I haven't felt that way in a long time."

When Red offers her hand, smiling with tender affection, Regina accepts without question. "I'm so glad," Red then says. "But I think you should remember you can feel that way again. If you show _Ruby_ what you've shown us, that is. 'Cause I'd bet my life that she will want to know you, all of you, even those parts you think might frighten her. The thing is, she won't be. Just like I wasn't. Remember, she also wrestles with a scary monster who is always lurking just beneath the surface, which puts her in a unique position to understand you. And you her. You two were literally made for each other, so don't hold back." She then pauses to squeeze Regina's hand. Her green eyes are large and imploring. "Promise me you won't. Promise me that you'll show her the real you."

Regina sighs, averting her eyes from the heartfelt, silent pleading that follows Red's verbal appeal. "I'm afraid hiding my true feelings is a default state that was beaten into me," she says. "Ever since Daniel died, I've found it impossible to open my heart like to another person. But for you? I promise to try." She braves a glance at Red, who is now beaming. "What? Why are you smiling at me that way?"

"Oh, no reason," Red says, trying to act obsequious to deflect from answering the question.

Regina's eyes sharpen and then narrow further when Red begins to blush under her shallow, affectionate scrutiny. "Well, now I'm interested. I want to know the reason for that pretty blush. And don't bother trying to wiggle your way out of it. I _know_ you want to tell me." She can see the desire bubbling behind those pretty emerald eyes.

"Oh...fine," Red huffs petulantly. "If you _must_ know..."

Regina gives her a teasing wink. "Oh, I must."

Red rolls her eyes, smiling finally breaking through once more. "It's nothing earth shattering or anything. It's just, my memory is perfect, always has been, and those were nearly the exact words she used when we had this very same conversation."

"That is a remarkable coincidence," Regina says, "but I fail to see why it elicited such a reaction."

"Because it's just another layer of confirmation to what Regina's told me about True Love and there being other...what did she call it? Alternate realities? She always said that True Love was transcendent and universal, that couples who have True Love share it in every reality."

Regina can't help but think about the kiss when Red brings up the topic of alternate realities. That alone served as proof to the Queen's assertions, because there is no denying she'd felt the tug of True Love when Red kissed her, had admitted as much even, and Red wasn't even _hers_. If Rumple knew this to be fact also, she now understood why he expended so much effort to bottle up the magic True Love produces, and explains why releasing it in Storybrooke successfully integrated magic into a world otherwise devoid of it.

"I see," she says, still chewing on her thoughts. "You said 'another layer of confirmation.' What was the first?"

Red nibbles demurely at her lip. "You already know."

Regina gives her an impish grin. "Maybe I do..."

"But need me to say it?" Red gleefully interrupts, all modesty vanishing at Regina's prompting. "Okay! Happy to oblige! It was the kiss. When my lips touched yours, I felt my soul sing as if the music of creation was flowing through it, just like I do whenever my wife kisses me. So you see, now I have no reason to doubt her explanation for our... _cosmic_ connection. Thank you for that."

"Thank me? I should be thanking you. That kiss opened my eyes in more ways than one."

"Oh! Did it now?" Red blushes, which sparks a swirl of arousal low in Regina's belly. Wonder of all wonders, will she ever get used to how this woman's blush can drive her wild with desire? She hopes not, as she's fairly sure the effect will translate over with Ruby.

"Don't play the ingenue, milady," Regina says, tone saucy. "We both know it did."

Red's expression shifts from that coyness which looks positively edible on her into a vested curiosity. "And has that cure from blindness inspired you to act on what you know to be true?"

Regina's lips curve upward with a promise she'd been lacking when she wished herself here to save a damsel who didn't even know she was in distress. Emma's happiness in this world had frankly disgusted Regina. Which made her feel guilty because Emma is a friend and she's supposed to be happy when her friends are happy. She tried to explain away the bitterness by telling herself it was just because Emma's happiness was fake, as fake as the world she'd been woven into by the power of the Genie's magic. In reality, her distaste of it had been petty jealousy. However phony it was, Emma was fairy tale happy, the kind that makes a person skip through flowery fields and sigh wistfully at the cloudless blue skies, a sort Regina had never known. Not even with Daniel. And she'd seethed with envy.

And then Mireya happened, driving the knife deeper into her heart. In those early hours after discovering the Queen, it seemed to Regina as if this world was the universe's ultimate gesture of cruelly warped hatred for her. After all, her banished doppelganger had never bothered to cast the Dark Curse because she'd found everything she needed in Red and then had blessing heaped upon blessing with a child all her own lacking any split loyalties whatsoever. Honestly, it was like the Wish World wasn't created to be a prison for the Savior but as a punishment for the former Evil Queen. That it was a shadow world cast by a life that _should_ have come to pass had a certain green bug not fumbled her chance at legendary fame and Regina not been tempted to the darkness with such criminal ease. Essentially, this world was fate's way of rubbing her nose in the pile of shit she'd made out of her life through a domino series of catastrophically bad choices. She'd been suffocating in the smell of her abject failure until that first morning her daughter brought her breakfast and she later on had a fateful encounter with her True Love.

Since that morning, things have changed for Regina. _She_ has changed, and for the better. Now when she glances down the pathway of her life, she no longer sees only suffering ahead. When she looks up at the horizon, there is no longer a moonless night blanketing her vision in viscous, cloying blackness. The sun is rising in the east again, bringing with it warmth and the promise of a new day. The darkness is, bit by bit, being banished from the landscape of her heart and soul by the light of hope for happiness that has dawned upon her once more. Had the Evil Queen not been so terribly clever with this admittedly ingenious ploy sideline the Savior, Regina might have remained in the dark forever.

But now, it seems all her villainous half has done is seal her own doom. For as sure as Regina is in retrospect that splitting herself had been a horrible mistake, she now knows what she has to do to fix it. And fix it she shall. Come hell or high water, she will be whole once more. And then? And then, it is on to Oz!

"You'll be happy to know it has," she says, feeling her chest swell with the warmth from those delicious rays of hope bathing her life anew.

Red's smile is practically effervescent. "Splendid! Oh, I really am so happy for you! And for me. Well, the _other_ me. That's so weird to say. But then again this whole ordeal is sort of surreal, isn't it?"

 _To say the least_ , Regina thinks as she nods. Aloud, she says, "I'll admit it's not been easy to process, but I'm used to dealing with the extraordinary. Where Emma and I are from, the bizarre happens on a near daily basis."

"Speaking of that, you have my best wishes and fervent prayers regarding what you will face there. Emma told me a little of what transpired before the two of you were sent here." Red shudders. "I can't imagine my Regina ever splitting herself like that."

Regina gives her hand, which is still held tightly in her own, a reassuring squeeze. "That's something you don't have to worry about. Had I known then what I do now, I wouldn't have done it, either."

"Well, I'm sorry the lesson wasn't easy to suffer through, but I'm glad you learned it. And I hope everything gets sorted out soon for your sake. And for Emma's." Red's eyes twinkle with fondness at the thought of Emma. "She's quite something you know."

Regina makes a noise of exasperation, thinking of all the crazy shit Emma has done and the stunts she's pulled over the years. "Do I ever. Did you know when she first moved to town she took a chainsa...er, a saw to my most prized apple tree?"

Red gasps in horror, eyes bulging as her free hand grasps at her chest. "The tree you planted with your father when you were six? She didn't!"

"It's true. To be fair, we were bitter enemies then, but she did precisely that. Sawed off one of the larger branches. It took a year to correct the damage."

Red gapes as if unable to imagine such a crime. That her tree is equally sacrosanct here would have been made obvious by Red's reaction if she hadn't personally witness it's place of prominence withing the gorgeous garden the Queen and her family tend with the utmost care. When Regina asked her alternate the reason for the garden, she admitted that it was initially for the sole purpose of having her tree close. The climate here is unsuitable for honeycrisp trees, as it is far colder here in winter than in the White Kingdom, cold enough to kill even that hardy specimen. As the years passed and the Queen began doing more and more alchemy in her spare time, she decided to put the space to use, thus the tiered herb and flower arrangements, which now includes plants chosen for aesthetic appeal alone.

"So," Red says after recovering from her astonishment at Emma's brazenness, "what changed in the meantime that you were so willing to risk your life for her by coming here?"

Regina smiles as she thinks of that reason. "Our mutual love for our son. Along with her stubborn refusal to allow me to keep being my own worst enemy."

"Sounds like a good friend to me."

Regina agrees wholeheartedly. "The best. I owe my life to her several times over."

"I'm glad you have her, then." A solemn, almost somber expression overtakes Red's face. "I used to wish Regina...well, my Regina...could have a friend like that."

Regina's heart aches for her elder self, knowing the loneliness that once was her constant companion. As Queen, she'd been too busy trying to kill Snow, running a vast kingdom with a large economy, and fornicating as she pleased with whomever she pleased in between those occupations to feel lonely. Storybrooke was different, well, _story_. Oh, those first few months she'd had a blast strutting around town like a peacock, reveling in her hard earned victory as she watched the denizens she'd once loathed, many of whom she'd attempted to murder at regular intervals, mope and slog and struggle through each day in their new, maddeningly mundane roles. But even that got boring after a while, so she turned to taking up hobbies to pass the time. Eventually, though, she'd learned to play the piano, to cook at a level passable in any five-star restaurant, to speak two new languages, and had read every book in the library – the good ones twice. After that, which nothing with which to occupy herself, the loneliness set in.

It was only then that she realized how isolated she'd allowed herself to become. Sycophants, of which she had plenty, were not and could not be family because such do not know how to love, her many servants and soldiers were not her friends and most were only loyal out of a strict sense of duty and a lack of choice in the matter, and the masses who'd once bowed their faces to the ground in her presence her only did so out of fear of their necks being relieved without consent of ten pounds worth of weight. In Storybrooke, she didn't even have those. The people that once prostrated themselves before her only nodded quickly or avoided her altogether in the new setting, the latter of which Regina found far more intolerable. The amount of evasion she encountered was staggering. She'd have much rather people were baying for her blood than acting as if she were a specter to be run from or an annoyance to be ignored. And that disturbed her deeply. She realized then to her shock and dismay that Daniel had been her first and only true friend.

Befriending Kathryn had not only been a means to keep information about Charming readily available. Fact of the matter is that Regina had approached the woman because she was lonely. Which was pathetic, and made her so sick to her stomach that she canceled the first few outings for drinks with her new 'friend' with some lame excuse fashioned to hide her misery that she'd been forced to stoop to such degrading levels for simple human connection. She'd also started sleeping with Graham during that time, as she'd known he was unable to refuse her; Regina doesn't like to think about the ramifications of that very much lest she hate herself even more.

When Regina finally scraped up enough nerve to actually show up as scheduled, Kathryn was waiting with a smile and two tumblers of twenty-year-old whiskey, neat, ready for consumption. They hit it off immediately, to Regina's immense surprise. She hadn't expected the former Princess Abigail to have such a wry sense of humor or an intellect nearly equal to her own. That night, they sat and talked until the grandfather clock in Kathryn's parlor announced the arrival of midnight. They became true friends after that, and that she'd squandered that friendship to hurt Snow goes to show how deep the claws of vengeance were sunk into her heart.

It's nice that the Queen hasn't made her mistake, though. Which reminds Regina that she needs to call her friend when she gets a minute free from saving the damn world. She could use a night of whiskey and some healthy political debate.

"Used to?" she asks, thinking of how close the Queen is with Abigail. "I'm assuming you're referring to Kath – er, Abigail."

"Yes, and no," says Red. "Abigail certainly helped, but I'm mainly talking about her half-sister."

Regina does a double take at that. Her sister hasn't been mentioned once the entire time she's been in the Wish World, so she'd just assumed Zelena did not exist here.

"Wait a second, my _sister_? Who tried to kill me when we first met?" she says, still trying to wrap her brain around Zelena being a part of this world. And at Red's intimation that Zelena is the kind of friend to the Queen that Emma is to her.

"What?" Red's forehead furrows in confusion. "That didn't happen here. Why would Zelena want to hurt you?"

Regina arches a brow, hardly able to fathom how that might be true. With their childhood contact erased, the envious personality Zelena developed later on in Oz all but guaranteed they would be set at odds upon reintroduction.

"In my world, she blamed me for all that went wrong with her life," Regina says, thinking back to Pan's Curse, and how it led to her discovery of the long-lost sibling she was blissfully ignorant of. "In her irrational jealousy, she hatched a convoluted plan to go back in time and erase my existence."

Red stares back at her, blinking in disbelief through a brief interlude. "Wow," she then says. "That's extreme. Sounds like Zelena, alright. Just a more... _wicked_ version. It wasn't at all like that here."

Regina has to bite her tongue to keep from expressing her irritation hearing that world used. The 'w' word, that is. The one she's banned her sister from using in her presence. Honestly, she loves Zelena, but the woman can channel cheese on a level that would make Velveeta engineers envious. The whole 'w' word bit, in particular, was more than a little long in the tooth.

Still, the idea of meeting Zelena under more favorable circumstances is intriguing enough that she would like to hear more. So she tilts her head to the side and gestures her encouragement for Red to elaborate.

"Really? Do tell."

"Well..." Red begins, and then launches into a condensed tale that frankly changes Regina's opinions about her red-headed sibling.

According to Red, right after Regina ascended to the throne, they scheduled a visit to Oz for diplomatic purposes. During the official tour lead by Queen Ozma herself, they passed through through by a little village some miles away from the Emerald City. When they arrived, Zelena was being throttled with a gnarled cane by her father right there in the town square. Even though Zelena had magic that would have enabled her to easily fight him off, the old devil had beat her down so thoroughly after her adoptive mother's death that she simply cowered down, attempting as best she could to shield her head. And apparently the townsfolk were too scared to help, which only further enraged the Queen, who, of course, immediately intervened – and with Ozma's approval.

Zelena was so grateful for the rescue she'd thrown herself at the Queen's feet to kiss them. But then she caught sight of her rescuer's face and went stock still. She'd recognized her younger sister immediately. The stuttered, half-coherent story that poured out of her mouth was so harrowing that the Queen performed an impromptu inquisition of the village folk. Come to find out, Glinda had known who Zelena really was for years and only admitted to such when Regina confronted with eyewitness testimony of her visiting Zelena's father. The only reason the Queen didn't incinerate the supposedly pure White Witch right then and there was because Ozma swore she would personally administer an appropriate punishment.

Not long after, the Queen and Red returned to the Enchanted Forest with Zelena in tow. An emotionally damaged Zelena, that is. Red says it took half a year to coax the full horror of Zelena's story out of her. It started the same as real world, with Cora retrieving her eldest child for the sole purpose of having her save Regina's life, and continued on in parallel until Cora returned Zelena to Oz. Instead of wiping Zelena's memory, the Queen's mother had allowed Zelena to retain her memories as punishment. Like in Regina's own experience, the Queen had grown so close so quickly to her newfound sibling that it threatened Cora's place in her heart, and by extension threatened her plans of accruing power through her younger daughter. What's worse, to prevent Zelena from rescuing her sister from their monstrous mother, Cora placed a curse upon her magically gifted child which prevented her from ever leaving Oz. The Curse was tied to the Queen's touch, therefore Cora believed it a foolproof retribution. And it was, until the Queen came to Oz with Red.

"Forgive me for even thinking what happened to us was bad," Regina says, grimacing at the thought of Zelena being imprisoned in a wretched life with a father who abused her, all the while knowing she had a sister out there who loved her but was ever out of reach. It must have been daily torment to endure the beatings only to dream at night about the happy life she could never have because her birth mother was a heartless witch. She shakes her head in disgust. In whatever realms Cora inhabits, the woman's depravity is sure to know no bounds. "Knowing now how zealously my sister loves?" she adds, "that is an even worse fate for her. I can't imagine such prolonged torture."

Sadness clouding her features, Red nods. "It was awful. For the first few months she lived with us, she clung to Regina so hard. She was always afraid her sister would be taken away from her again. Seeing the fear in her eyes whenever Regina had to leave her side for more than five minutes broke both of our hearts. It got so bad that we even made her sleep with us in our bed just so we wouldn't have to hear her screaming for Regina in her nightmares. In time she recovered, of course, but it was rough going for a while."

Regina looks away, swallowing thickly. "It's...it's hard to imagine Zelena being so vulnerable. My sister hates showing weakness even more than I do. And that's saying something. I think she'd rather chew glass than accept a simple hug from me when she's in a funk."

"Cora broke her, I think," Red says.

Regina makes a noise of agreement. That was at least one thing she and her sister have always had in common.

"All Zelena ever wanted was to be loved," she says, wishing fiercely to be able to change things so that their memories hadn't been erased. As atrocious as Wish World Zelena's treatment had been, at least she'd never begun to hate the Queen. Instead, she'd held on to her love until their bittersweet but ultimately fortuitous reunion that was the beginning of something profound, a relationship so lovely it hurt Regina's heart to think about it because she didn't think she could ever have it with her own Zelena. There was just too much wreckage littering the expansive debris field of their hearts and minds for them to find their way back to each other that way.

"When we were children, I remember how crazy I was for her," she goes on, eyes glassy as she remembers the happiest portion of her childhood she's only recently recovered. "Over those few days we were together, she became my everything. She was starting to replace mother in my heart, just like you said. Had she stayed, there soon would have been no contest. I think that's why we had to be so cruelly separated."

"It was," Red says. "When Cora came back, she rubbed what she'd done in Regina's face. Thankfully Zelena was away with her True Love at the time like she is now, or else things would have got really ugly."

Regina doesn't miss that Red doesn't mention the name of Zelena's True Love. Why it has been withheld is certainly a mystery, but it's not one she's not keen on pursuing. Painful as the journey was, fate had managed to maneuver her back onto her destined path. Strangely enough, she trusted it to do the same for her sister. Besides, she's more interested in the mention of Cora's disastrous attempt at reintegrating herself into the Queen's life right now to press for details.

"From what I recall you saying earlier, they got ugly anyway."

"Oh, they did," Red says. "But I'm not talking about what Cora did, I'm talking about what Zelena would have done _to_ Cora. As badly as her mother hurt them, I think killing her mother would have destroyed Zelena."

"And it didn't me? I mean, _her_?"

"No, it didn't." Regina hadn't noticed her counterpart join them – along with Emma, who hangs fast behind the Queen's left shoulder. "As I told Red, my mother had been dead to me for a long time at that point. All I did was make it official. Hopefully you did the same."

"Of course I didn't!" Regina exclaims, a little shocked by the blithe manner the Queen is addressing matricide. And also more than a little disturbed. However deplorable her mother was, she was still her _mother_. "I loved my mother. I know you did, too. And you're being awfully flippant considering the woman gave you life."

"She gave me nothing," the Queen growls. "Everything I have, I have of my own two hands. Aside from that, she used Red to control me. Even if I'd spared her, I'd have never forgiven her for that." The Queen stops there, red faced, and takes a huge breath, which she blows out slowly. She then eyes Regina and Emma in turn. "Now, before the mood is ruined by talk about that... _woman_...I believe you two have an appointment to make."

Regina nods, throat thickening with anxiety as Red's grip on her hand, which has never let up this entire time, suddenly tightens. Even from a meter away, she can feel how conflicted Emma is as well, knowing her friend has as much reason to dread leaving as she does. It's awful, but there is a part of her that is ready to cast aside her obligations for another month just spend more time with Red and Mireya. And even with the Queen.

It's been a month, but she loves them all so damn much that she can feel tiny little cracks forming upon the surface of her heart, threatening its structural integrity. If she were being painfully honest, only the thought of Henry keeps her from giving in to her need to be here with her family. Her _family_. There is no other word to adequately describe the depth of her love for Red and Mireya. Irrational as she knows it is, even though she wasn't the Regina who said the vows, Red _feels_ like her wife. And even though she has never given birth, Mireya _feels_ like her baby girl. It's excruciating to think that in mere minutes, she'll be parting from them forever.

 _How am I supposed to do this?_ she thinks. _How am I supposed to leave this place when a part of my heart will be staying? How am I to stop the yearning for what I can't have?_

And yet, she knows she going to have to do just that. The time for goodbye is upon them, and it's not going to be easy for anyone.


	9. The Red Mile

**Chapter 9 – The Red Mile**

The hundred or so yard journey to the throne room is more like a funeral procession than the triumphant prelude to returning home. That or the infamous green mile. Regina feels as if the walls of that final corridor are lined with cells rather than plaster and paint, and that her ears are being assaulted with the plaintive cries of her fellow inmates, "Dead woman walking!" Should there be a dirge playing in the background? Perhaps the melancholy strains of Mozart's Requiem Mass in D minor? It would be fitting, she thinks, with how her feet feel leaden and how it seems the hallway stretches out impossibly with each step until the remaining fifty yards becomes a thousand, then a million, than on into an infinite tunnel where there is no pinprick of light within the vastness since there is no end. The optical illusion, she figures, is one produced by a mind reluctant, and with approaching hysterical fervor, to let go of what peace it has found in this place.

In one month her brokenness has been lavished with more mending than years worth of slaving her fingers to the bone to earn it on her own. And yet Regina soldiers forward, one heavy step after another, refusing to allow her selfish desires to trump the responsibilities that await her attention back in Storybrooke. She has a son who needs her and a town to save from a regrettable mistake of her own making. As much as she wants to remain here indefinitely, those are obligations she cannot, will not, ignore.

The only relief for the anxiety rapidly ascending to a deafening crescendo is Red's hand in hers. The Queen seems content to walk aside Emma still and continue whatever conversation they'd been engaged in before noting their companions had lagged behind and out of sight. That Her Majesty is so graciously willing to lend Regina her wife for comfort is a relief in and of itself when she'd been expecting open outrage or, at the very least, silent admonishment.

Right before they'd resumed the trek to the throne room where Regina presumed Jefferson was waiting, the monarch had taken one glance at their joined hands and shot Regina that smug smile only she was capable of. It was the woman's strange but not unwelcome seal of approval that Regina's verbal insistence of fully accepting her destiny was not word service meant to curry favor or simply get the woman off her back. Regina hadn't the words to thank her counterpart for the allowance, but it proved unnecessary, as the Queen inclined her head in unspoken acceptance of the gratitude Regina felt.

And so she holds on to Red, her tether to the gravity of sanity amidst the weightless vacuum of what must soon come to pass, with a grip so tight that a normal human being would be painfully protesting having their bones crushed. It is only as they approach the grand double doors that grant entry to the throne room that Regina releases it.

Confronted by the barrier separating her from Jefferson's hat – and ultimately home – reality sets in with awful finality. Her heart seizes painfully in her chest, and she releases a shaky breath as contact with Red's preternaturally warm skin is lost. She clenches her eyes shut against tears that threaten to fall.

"Hey." When Regina feels that same hot skin against her cheeks, she cracks her eyes open to find Red gazing down at her with a watery smile of her own. "Cheer up," Red then says, brushing away with her thumb the rebellious tear that dares to slip free of Regina's lashes. "Soon you'll be back home with your son."

Regina nods, feeling miserable that isn't enough for her right now. It's the first time since she brought Henry home that his preeminent spot in her heart has been challenged, and she doesn't quite know how to feel about that.

"I'll also be giving up so much," she says, hating how vulnerable, how weak and pathetic and wretched she sounds. "The peace I've found here with myself. Mireya. _You_." Red's eyes soften, and Regina bites down hard on her lower lip against the desire to kiss her one last time.

"Sweetie, you don't have to lose any of that," Red says, still cradling Regina's face with the same delicacy one would adopt handling thin glass. Which isn't far off considering how emotionally brittle Regina feels, as if one wrong move or poorly phrased confession will shatter her into innumerable razor-sharp shards. But Red, sensing her fragility, pulls her close until their foreheads meet and their eyes lock and she is nearly whispering her words, "That peace doesn't have stay here. You can take it with you. And you can keep it so long as you don't allow anyone or anything to convince you that you're less than perfect just the way you are. Because you are perfect, to me and to Mireya. As for our daughter, well, I know she's in your heart, and she'll stay there forever so long as you keep her alive in your thoughts. And so will I."

"But that's not enough," Regina says, voice cracking as she reaches for a handhold at the back of Red's neck. "I'll never stop thinking about her, dreaming about her, wishing I was with her...but in my imagination, I won't be able to feel her against me when I hug her, or take comfort in the weight of her hand as I hold it, or hear her sweet voice as she bids me good morning. I'll never go riding with her again, or laugh at her boundless enthusiasm for life and how she _whoops_ with delight whenever we race back to the palace. I'm going to miss her wedding, Red! I won't be there to see her in her wedding dress or watch her say her vows. I won't be there when she becomes a mother in her own right! And then there's you..." Guilt wells up in her stomach at even feeling this way. "I...I'll never kiss you again, and I know it's wrong to even want that, but I..." Her speech is interrupted by the softest and sweetest pair of lips she's ever tasted.

Heedless of the audience, Regina takes what is being offered with all the fervor of a starving woman being offered a seat at Demeter's banquet table. Losing herself in the smell of Red, in the sensations the woman is able to produce so effortlessly, she winds her arms around a thin waist and kisses Red for all she's worth. When Red makes that same little noise that does unspeakable things to Regina's libido, just as she did that day in the garden, she responds with all the passion she can muster without taking things too far. Tilting her head for a better angle, she parts her lips, and swallows up Red's tantalizingly emitted approval with a greediness that she just can't seem to shake.

And then when their tongues touch, she feels it. That knot of white hot energy in her chest that flares to life with lesser intensity whenever she gives purchase to the emotions that have become hopelessly entangled with Red: desire, lust, longing, and a natural affinity she's experienced with no other. It's been happening since their kiss in the garden, as if a switch has been flipped inside her that can't be turned off. Not that she'd want to when the feeling associated with it is as close to approaching euphoria as one can attain outside of illicit drugs or mind-blowing sex. Or so she'd thought. It almost happens during that kiss. Overcome as she with _everything Red_ , she very nearly topples over the precipice of rapture. It's not orgasmic per se, unless, that is, a person can experience emotional orgasm, in which case Regina feels herself edging preciously close to completion. All from a kiss!

She'd realized during that first kiss what Snow and Charming went on and on about. But this? This, she would die for. This, she would kill for. To regain this immaculate, impossible, all-encompassing feeling, she is willing to voyage alone to yet another foreign land and risk making a fool of herself for a woman who has every right to hate her for past crimes, a woman she'd daftly overlooked in her crazed obsession with revenge, a woman she couldn't deserve if she spent a thousand years breaking her back saving the world time and again.

"The first one I gave you for free," the Queen says, which forces Regina and Red to jolt apart, breaking the connection. The monarch looks decidedly unhappy at what she's just witnessed. "This one's going to cost you." Regina gulps nervously as Red looks ready to intervene to prevent bloodshed. Neither could have anticipated the Queen yanking Regina to her with magic, not to throttle her or strangle her or tear her to pieces, but to wrap her up in so tight a hug that it, in combination with the shock produced, robs Regina of the ability to breathe. "There, we're square now," the Queen chirps as Regina stumbles back from their unexpected embrace.

"I...I...what?" she stutters, totally confused, and not just about the Queen's actions. Red's kiss has left her in a daze.

"I've been dying to do that for days," the Queen says, smiling merrily. "I knew you wouldn't appreciate it, so I quite admirably restrained myself. But, you've kissed my wife twice now, so I figured you owe me at least one hug."

"You...you wanted to hug me? _Why_?" The idea is preposterous, or so Regina thinks. It makes no sense to her as hugging the Queen has been the furthest thing from her mind this past month. Then again, she isn't the Queen is she? And that has never been more apparent than now, as the Queen stares at her as if the answer should be obvious. Which it isn't. Not at all!

When Regina continues to appear flummoxed, the elder version of her heaves out a longsuffering sigh. "Sometimes it amazes me how dense I was," she says, then quickly adds when Regina bristles, "not that I'm judging you, of course. I, too, was once ignorant to the fact that I need more than Red, precious and wonderful as she is. There was one more person whose love I required to truly be whole." She pauses, allowing what's she's getting at to sink in, and when it finally dawns on Regina, the Queen grins. "And there we have it! That is my final gift to you, and by far the most precious, for without it, lasting happiness is impossible."

Regina winds her arms around her midsection, suddenly feeling self-conscious and exposed. Especially because Emma doesn't know. There have been so many times she's wanted to share this burden with someone – anyone – willing to listen without judgment, someone who wouldn't run away screaming or in some cruel twist of irony, lock her up in the very same psych ward she'd once upon a time utilized for far more nefarious purposes than the mental health of the patients. She'd tried Archie before, but found it impossible to fully unfurl her innermost insecurities to a man who used to be a cricket. However kind and intelligent and discreet he was, Regina still had her pride, dammit.

In a town full of people who can't imagine the self-hatred she's carried around inside since Daniel's death, Emma seems like the only other candidate to allow entry past the impenetrable shields she'd erected to keep all that pain from spilling out in a torrential flood. But how is she supposed to reveal the awfulness she carries every day inside her when she knows Emma already worries enough about her emotional and mental state? And furthermore, how is she supposed to admit to something she'd only really become cognizant of when she'd seen Henry lying so frail in that hospital bed, afflicted by a curse she'd personally cast to rid herself of the pest that was his birth mother? And to that same woman?

Such vulnerability was a weapon that could be used against her, so she'd done what came easiest to her and stuffed it away into a little black box which she then buried within the muck of tragedy and agony and hatred that mentally symbolizes her past. Should those aligned against her, of whom there were too many to account for in those days, discover the Evil Queen they so loathed struggled with crippling depression and anxiety, they would have an opening with which to take away what little she had left. Her position as Mayor was the only thing except Henry that gave her purpose back then, and with her son drifting ever further from her grasp by the day, stripping her of that familiar duty at so precarious a time would have surely triggered an inevitable decline into the same madness she'd already succumbed to once before. By the time Emma had burrowed into her heart, becoming a true friend Regina actually considered trusting with her darkest secrets, she'd got so used to pretending she was okay that it became second nature.

Emma is a perceptive woman, though, which is what made her such a formidable opponent. Knowing this, Regina makes sure the mask that conceals her suffering is firmly in place whenever those discerning green eyes are upon her. She only ever lets herself feel in earnest when she was alone in her house at night.

With no Henry to care for, no partner to hold her through the chaotic storm of her own torturous, injurious, invasive thoughts, it's okay to dwell on how much she reviles her own existence. Those are the nights she usually relives the monstrosity she'd become after Daniel died and the unbridled savagery that depraved, twisted, maniacal version of herself had so gleefully practiced. Those were the nights she could smell the acrid, smoky remains of the hundreds she'd torched, could hear the screams of those she'd ordered to be tortured with the cruelest devices known to their hideously inhumane world, and could almost taste the bitter tang of blood in her mouth from the enemies she'd dispatched up close and personal with her constantly thirsty blade. Those were the nights the insidious little voice that sounded an awful lot like her own crept into the back of her mind on the coattails of her past barbarism.

" _Just end it,_ " it would say. _"Brew yourself a death potion, swallow it down, and let the pain be over once and for all. You know you deserve it, just as you know you'll never escape your guilt. Why torture yourself needlessly? No one will miss you. Henry has his other family to love him and take care of him after you're gone. And you'll never find a partner who is able to accept the_ real _you. It's all hopeless. Surrender to the inevitable! Only then will you find peace._ "

The only reason she has yet to heed the invitation is that she considers suicide too cowardly an escape for even her. That, and she couldn't stomach the thought of how badly it would hurt Henry, which was the one thing the little voice could never convince her of. Even when he'd claimed to hate her guts because she was the Evil Queen, he would've mourned her passing because his was a pure heart that always came back around to love and forgiveness when it strayed from the path. He has proven that much in the years since their falling out. So, instead of acting on those impulses, she normally cries until her misery abates to tolerable levels, at which time she then settles in for another long night of emptiness.

No one knows she endures these struggles. Until now. And Regina could tell just by a glance at Emma's face that the keenly intuitive woman was making the logical leaps between those instances where Regina suddenly foisted Henry upon her for a weekend he wasn't scheduled to stay with her, and then was subsequently unreachable for days at a time only to reemerge with dark pouches under her eyes the most carefully applied make-up couldn't hide along with dulled brown irises and red streaks in the whites that betrayed how emotionally overwrought she was. Emma was also making the connection between the aforementioned physical evidence and the gallows humor Regina often utilized, frequently at her own expense, as a coping mechanism when she was going through a tough spot; and that she wasn't quite all the way joking when she suggested that perhaps everyone would be better off if she were to take a flying leap off the clock tower.

When Emma paled with realization, Regina hugged herself even tighter. She needn't bother denying the truth now, not when the Queen was present and more than willing to corroborate that she'd wrestled against the exact same demons. Only the Queen had won her battle. Regina couldn't say the same.

"If True Love can't fix me, how can loving myself?" she asked, sounding ashamed and thoroughly defeated. Unfair as it is to Ruby, she'd been counting on the achievement of their destiny to cure her of this malaise. "I thought True Love was the be-all, end-all of emotional stability?"

"A fallacy espoused by deceitful fairies and blindly accepted by devout nitwits who don't know any better than to trust them," says the Queen, sneering as she spits out the word 'fairies.'

Forgetting all the other commonalities Regina has discovered between herself and her alternate, contempt for the winged, conniving peddlers of false hope is one area they have always been in complete agreement. If it were up to her, there would have been no nunnery in Storybrooke, and after what Blue did to Rumple, she can't imagine why he let them off so easily in the Curse he designed. There, they had comfortable, saintly lives that ran almost parallel to the insufferably sanctimonious profession they'd occupied in the Enchanted Forest.

A whorehouse would have made a more fitting home for that band of deceitful, ne'er-do-wells who proudly proclaimed their goodness whilst sewing nothing but torment for people like stupidly naive Regina and the crippled coward Rumplestilskin, both of whom had demons for parents. People like them, broken from youth via circumstance of their abominable luck in biology, didn't fit into the perfectly attractive box designed to contain cookie cutter heroes and heroines whose innocence could coax the most skittish unicorn to eat from their palms and who shat delightfully colorful rainbows out of their arses. Honestly, at least she and Rumple were honest about their villainy. But the Great Azure Ninny is still convinced she'd done the right thing approaching Baelfire and then manipulating the impressionable lad to move against his father, while Greenie the Fail Bug is still secure in her delusion that her failure to help Regina was all Regina's fault and none of her own. They're all worthless in Regina's estimation.

Come to think of it, perhaps a whorehouse would've been too kind as well...

"I do not disparage True Love by saying this," the Queen then says, pulling Regina off the bypass her brain had taken. "In whatever form it takes, it is wonderfully indescribable. It fills the void where darkness once resided unchallenged, inspires hope and joy that buoys the heart against the insidious tides of depression, and provides an unquenchable flame that delivers warmth through even the most frigid nights. But it cannot bring peace to a wounded, tortured soul. Only learning to love oneself can leap over that final obstacle to self-serenity. In the end, it is incumbent upon you to love yourself as I do. As Red does. As Mireya does. As Emma does," the Queen gestures to Emma, who nods, looking suspiciously teary-eyed. "Only then will you obtain the inner tranquility you have yearned for and been so long denied."

"How am I supposed to do that?" Regina asks uncertainly. Self-loathing is such a basic emotion for her that she can't image being delivered from it. _How would it feel to look in a mirror and actually love who I see?_ As expected, she doesn't know the answer to that question.

"You can start by listening to us. 'Cause she's right," Emma says, stepping up to Red's side. She then untangles Regina's arms from around her torso so that she can join their hands together. "You know, I used to think that you were so broken that nothing could ever fix you." Regina falters, stumbling as if struck at that statement. That Emma, of all people, had felt that way seems a confirmation to Regina's most deep-seated fear. Emma holds her fast, though, which keeps her from scurrying away like she wants. "I was wrong, Regina. So wrong. Coming here, seeing you with your True Love and your daughter – hell, even with yourself – has convinced me that you _can_ truly be at peace with yourself. Since that first day, I don't think I've spent much more than a minute worrying about your state of mind or whether you might do something completely reckless, which I spent more time fretting over than I care to admit back home."

"Back at ya, sister," Regina mutters, inciting chuckles from everyone.

"Touché." Emma shoots her a lopsided grin. "Maybe in that way, this... _excursion_ has been good for both of us. I know I'm far more zen then I've ever been. Hey! That last bit rhymed! I'm a poet and didn't know it!"

Regina scoffs against her own tentative smile. "You're also corny as hell."

"Maybe. But I'm happy." Emma's eyes lose focus as a wistfulness overtakes her that reminds Regina of the diffident flower girl she'd met in the woods who didn't have a care in the world besides what to wear for supper that night. It's a strange look on a woman Regina is accustomed to seeing jaded and world-weary, but a good one, too. "I have memories of being raised by my parents that I'll never let go of," Emma then says with airy tones. "Of my Mom reading me bedtime stories and my Dad carrying me around on his shoulders. Of them kissing my bruises and lovingly bandaging my scrapes after another clumsy fall. Of their laughter as they played games with me and the way I dreamed about finding someone to love as much as they loved each other. I now know what life would have been like for me had, you know..." she cuts an apologetic glance at Regina.

"Had I not cast the Curse," she supplies, wincing at how much she's taken from Emma. As much as Tink had taken from her by messing up so pivotal a spell, what she'd done to her friend was so much worse. At least Regina could draw on memories of her father's love to bolster her flagging confidence when she was feeling worthless. Emma didn't have that at all. She'd grown up bouncing around foster homes and being otherwise neglected by a woefully inadequate system in between. Up until her twenty-eighth birthday, she'd believed her parents didn't want her, didn't love her, and had abandoned her on the side of the road like so much trash. So, if this magical journey through what could have – perhaps even should have – been has assuaged even a sliver of that hurt, Regina is glad that Emma got to experience it.

"Yeah," Emma breathes, melancholy only for a second before it vanishes into a soft regard for Regina that has her swallowing back her emotional response. "But I wouldn't change anything, even if I could."

"No?" Regina asks, surprised. At the very least she would have thought Emma would change her mother being deprived the opportunity to raise her because of Gepetto's naughty, flag-pole-nosed loser of a son.

"Nope," says Emma, popping the 'p' in her assurance just like Red had in the garden. "If I did, I wouldn't have Henry, now would I?" Regina concedes the point with a tilt of her head. She, too, has come to the conclusion that for Henry alone she would endure all of the pain a hundred times over again. "I wouldn't be the person I am today, either. Which I kinda like." Regina rolls her eyes at that. "I also wouldn't have ever met you." Regina scoffs at the assertion, but chuckles when Emma playfully slaps her arm for it. "And! I wouldn't be here right now, having discovered I have a daughter who has brought me joy I had no right to expect."

The final point rings especially true for Regina, who nods as tears prick at her lids that she refuses to let fall. "Me, too."

"I'd say that puts us a distinct advantage in the game of life, then. Don't you?" Emma nudges her shoulder conspiratorially. "We have something to look forward to." Emma is clearly referring not only to Henry, but to Ruby. And, maybe, Elsa?

Could it be that Swan, even snapped out of the Wish World personality she'd been cloaked in, is still carrying a torch for the paramour who'd broken her heart? _How interesting_ , Regina thinks. She'd got no such indication from Emma during their discussions, just a pervasive sadness and a well-mastered anger simmering beneath the surface. But then again, Emma is a lauded expert every bit as adept at concealing instead of feeling as the originator of that atrocious catch phrase is. If so, Regina will have to give her friend a hearty clap on the back for good taste. _Good riddance to the scruffy_ , one-handed rogue, she'll say. _Team FrozenSwan all the way!_ She's sure Emma will disapprove of the portmanteau just as much as she will the disparagement of Hook, not that Regina will care. She's never liked the pirate beyond his rugged prettiness and his purported usefulness to dispatch her mother. And she has never thought him a good match for Emma, who needs an equal in a lover and not yet another person clinging to the hem of the Savior's robe for a shot at a miraculous redemption.

"Yes, we do," Regina says after a beat. But as much as she would love to focus on what is waiting down the yellow brick road of life for them both, it's hard to see beyond the next few steps for the heartache awaiting round the next bend. "But we also have one more goodbye awaiting us, and I for one am _not_ looking forward to it."

Emma sighs, deflating. Regina feels bad for knocking the wind out of her sails for about half a second. Then she casts it aside, knowing it was for the best to prepare them both for the inevitable agony of being separated – probably forever – from their respective daughters.

"I know," Emma says, looking sad but determined in that unique way only she can manage. "I'm not gonna lie. It's gonna hurt like hell. But we gotta do it. So, c'mon. Let's get this show on the road. We have work to do back home, and time's a-wasting." And then she strides for the door.

Regina gives Emma's little pep talk-slash-command a mock salute. "Aye, aye, Captain Swan."

"Shush you," Emma throws back over her shoulder, smiling as she pushes the double doors open and strides through. Regina follows suit, with the Queen and Red on her heels.

Inside, Mireya and Ella are holding hands as they wait on the left hand side of the dais. The only other attendant is Jefferson, who is lingering on the right near the outer wall, pacing with his hat in hand. Both Princesses are dressed down from their typical sartorial splendor. Ella is arrayed in an airy white garment that almost resembles a modern shift dress that leaves her pale shoulders and arms exposed and whose skirts don't quite reach her knees. Mireya, on the other hand, is wearing black leather breeches and knee high boots to match a black blouse accented up the length of the sleeves. Sinuous crimson limbs connect to a sprawling tree upon the bodice, whose trunk is adorned by a gnarled scar in the shape of a crescent moon.

 _An apple tree emblazoned with a crescent moon,_ Regina thinks. _Must be the new family crest._

Less than a month ago she couldn't have imaged forsaking her father's ancient Coat-of-Arms, diagonally crossing swords over top a three-spired castle. All the same, she feels an affinity for the imagery and symbolism meant to represent the Queen's line beginning with her and extending down, hopefully, to her grandchildren's grandchildren's grandchildren. Regina doesn't believe that the woman has forgotten her ancestry in abandoning the old crest, just that she's chosen to start anew as if being reborn, which in a sense is accurate.

The woman who crawled to Red's cabin near death wasn't the same that left it only one year later healthy and happy for the first time in her adult life. That little cabin was the Queen's own personal cocoon, and she'd emerged from chrysalis something different, an amalgamation of who she was and who she might have been had fate not visited so much tragedy upon her. According to the Queen's final encouragements to Regina, some of that phenomenal progress came from within, from her newfound peace she derived by learning how to love herself. However, the other portion, and perhaps the lion's share, was due to Red, which makes the tree and moon a perfect symbol for the convergence of two hearts and two souls into one beautiful new life. It is only more fitting that Mireya, the tangible proof of that convergence, is so proudly clad in garments displaying that symbol.

Pride swells in great, towering waves within Regina's heart as she drinks in the sight of the daughter that has so thoroughly stolen her heart and the lovely young lady that in turn stole her daughter's. They look gorgeous together, Mireya and Ella do, presenting a portrait worthy of being immortalized by the hand of Di Vinci or Rembrandt or Van Eyck. Regina stores the image in her mind to cherish later on at home, wishing all the while, and not for the first time, that she had her phone on hand with which to capture it in high definition for posterity. Her memory is very good, but how long will that last? As she grows older, will she begin to forget Mireya's face? Will that smile whose beauty is only outdone by her younger mother's begin to fade as time ravages the brain cells that store these priceless images? Will she lose the affection that has, in the span of a month, been planted in her heart only to grow into a fully flowered tree of love for this miracle child she'd all but given up hope for obtaining? The thought is terrifying, and as Regina passes the distance between her location near the back of the enormous chamber and the dais near which Mireya stands, she commits every single detail she can to memory.

So intent is she upon her task that she doesn't notice the watering of her eyes until she's close enough to make out Mireya's matching grief. With a choked sob, Mireya tears free of Ella, who takes the opportunity to rush to her own awaiting mother, and throws herself against Regina, who wraps her up as tightly as she can, knowing her daughter can take it. Loving a werewolf has it's advantages.

Having her daughter in her arms with minutes left before saying goodbye forever is nearly too much for Regina to bear. Her heart is being squeezed as if in a slowly tightening vice, compressing it an inch at a time until the emotional pain manifests physical in her chest. Every breath she sucks into her lungs burns, as do the acidic tears pooling beneath her eyelids. Sorrow pummels her in relentless torrents that batter her mind and weaken her knees. This is her baby girl, her flesh and blood, the only ripe fruit she's ever birthed into the world, and it's the last time she'll ever hold her. The terminal quality of the embrace is so monumentally tragic that it threatens to spring a trap door Regina hadn't even noticed appeared beneath feet, sending her plummeting her once more into the abyssal void of depression.

But then Mireya tightens her grasp as if sensing Regina's mounting anxiety. Deceptively strong arms squeeze her with just the right amount of pressure to project security without triggering an onset of pure panic that normally accompanies someone hugging her too tight. It's an old response ingrained into her from when her mother used to wait until her father was in the room, then feign an affectionate embrace. Only her mother would smother her so painfully tight that she would start whimpering, just lightly enough that her tormentor could hear without alerting her father in the next room. As she struggled for each breath, the day's infractions would be whispered viciously into her ear so she'd know exactly why she was being punished after the fact and in private. Ever since, Regina has equated unbearably tight hugs with that feeling of suffocation that accompanied her mother's judgment.

Of the people she's accepted into her orbit since the Curse broke, none save Henry are allowed to give her much more than a loose embrace that doesn't involve close body contact. Henry was exempt because he was her son, the apple of her eye, and she not only enjoyed his hugs but craved them with a fervency that has yet to subside. To her utter astonishment, Mireya and Red very quickly added themselves to that exemption list, not that they would have listened anyway had she forbade them. Those two were big league huggers who gave them to just about anyone they cared even a smidgen for. In the month Regina has been with the Royal family, she's seen Emma receive her fair share of crushing bear hugs, as have Kathr-Abigail and a number of the palace staff the two gregarious women count as either acquaintances or friends. But the best hugs, the ones that have them squeezing their eyes shut with an expression of such adoration that it seems for all the world like the person in their arms is their entire universe, are reserved for the Queen...and for Regina.

The first time she'd been gifted a 'Mireya special,' her eyes nearly bugged out of her head in shock. The astonishment was only deepened when she braced for the inevitable panic to blanket her senses only for it to never surface. Somehow, her body recognized Red and Mireya as pure founts of devotion who existed to spring eternal for her benefit, and that they unique among all others offered a safe haven to her in which she could relax and let herself be vulnerable without fear of rejection, or judgment, or loathing, or without the burden of a checkered past staining the interaction.

Thirty days have come and gone since her first hug from Mireya, and Regina's love of them has only grown in the meantime. It is yet another aspect of this world she is going to have to learn to live without, and a personal one that she is no doubt going to incessantly crave for in the coming weeks and months. Whereas Mireya seems to have grown into her need for hugs, Henry has grown out of his. So she savors this one as much as she can, and prays it will be enough for her to persist on until she can either reinforce her emotional defenses or convince Ruby to give their destiny a fighting chance. Whichever comes first, she knows the remedy will not be a cure so much as a treatment. There will be no filling the spot in her heart Mireya has so deftly and permanently carved out.

"I guess this is goodbye, then," Mireya says, sniffling adorably as they part some minute – or minutes – later.

"It is, I'm afraid," Regina says, subconsciously holding on to her daughter's forearms in a futile bid to keep her close by. "I must get back to my world. To my son."

Mireya ducks her head, visage marred by conflict. "Is it wrong of me to wish you would stay?" she asks, looking up through her lashes. "Please don't misunderstand, I love my mother with everything in me. I just...you're so different than her and yet the same. And I know your son probably misses you something awful, but..." she nibbles daintily at her lip, "I can't help not wanting you to go." She shakes her head, shoulders drawing in self-consciously. "It's silly. I'm being silly. I'm sorry."

The ache so plain in Mireya's tone breaks Regina's heart just a little more, and she marvels that there had been any of it left to break after saying goodbye to Red. She'd thought that parting was going to rend her asunder, but this? This is a whole other level of anguish, one that reverberates down into her soul, and into her magic, which is whirling chaotically with a desperate need to keep the girl it recognizes as her offspring.

It's been this way since the beginning, she'd only just clued into it when the anvil was dropped upon her head as to who Mireya was. Not only do they have a familial, emotional, and spiritual connection, but a magical one as well. The same is true for Red, but to a lesser extent, as Red is intrinsically linked to the Queen via their True Love. Mireya, too, is connected to her parents, but she is removed just enough from them that her magic spins out tendrils attracted to Regina whenever they are in remote proximity. The effect this produces in Regina is sublime, and she is loathe to lose it. That reticence pales in comparison, though, to her motherly desire for the raven-haired beauty in whom that magic resides.

"Oh, my sweet, precious girl," she says, fighting back the desire to scream at the unfairness of it all or to just fall to the ground and weep until she disintegrates into the dust from whence she came. "It's not silly at all when I feel the same. There is a part of me that wants nothing more than to stay here forever with you." She releases one of Mireya's arms to tuck a stray strand of ebony hair behind her ear. "But we both know I can't, that shirking my responsibilities is not who I am. That I would never leave Henry behind, even for someone so impossibly lovely as you are. And Mireya, make no mistake, you have been the most amazing surprise I have ever received. But I _must_ go, and so I shall."

Looking crestfallen, Mireya nods. "I know, and I don't begrudge you that. Just...just make me one promise, okay?" Mireya is so painfully earnest that there isn't much Regina wouldn't promise, so she listens to the request with full intent. "Whatever it takes, find Mama. Fight for your happy ending like Mother did. You've been here, you've seen what's waiting for you if take that step. I need to know you'll be okay after you leave, that you'll be happy. Else I think I'll worry myself sick."

Regina sighs, wanting more than she is able to express to be able to deliver on that exceedingly sweet wish. "I can promise to try, but it's not going to be so easy to make happen."

Green eyes flash with a resolve meant to be reaffirming and encouraging. "You're right. It's not gonna be easy. But can't you see that it's worth it? That you can be happy. That you deserve to be happy. And so does Mama. And she can't be happy without you! Not really." She then pauses, shuffling her feet before shyly smiling at Regina. "And who knows? Maybe one day you might get your own happy accident. Just try not to compare them too much with my undeniable awesomeness."

"I wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart," Regina says, chuckling at the way Mireya playfully preens as if to exhibit that she is, indeed, undeniably awesome. Which she is!

From what Regina has observed and heard from the servants in the caste, Mireya is perhaps the most beloved individual in the entire kingdom. It isn't surprising considering she is fashioned of sunshine and fueled by happiness, that she exudes warmth capable of driving out the most bitter cold, and that her compassion and kindness know virtually no bounds. Mireya treats everyone the same, so that even those who hate the Queen, or so it seems anyway, harbor genuine fondness for the Crown Princess. Mireya carries the hopes and the dreams of a nation upon her shoulders, and does it with such incomparable grace that she has earned the respect of the people and the nobility alike.

But it's not just those traits that endear Mireya to all who know her. The girl has a funny streak that approaches being magical, which she clearly hadn't inherited from the Queen. Honestly, Regina has laughed more this past month than she ever has between Red and Mireya, a sentiment she knows for a fact isn't unique to her. The only difference between mother and daughter is that Red is more mischievous and far more saucy with her jokes while Mireya delivers a uniquely effervescent and bubbling merriment that originates from an enviable ability to see the humor in everything. The current moment of levity brought on by Mireya is a prime example.

And as Regina enjoys it together with her daughter, she catches sight of Emma separating from a miserable-looking, splotchy-cheeked Ella out of the corner of her eye. A blink of the eye later, Jefferson moves into position just below the center of the dais with his hat ready to deploy. The time for goodbyes is over. Her heart turns cold as the frigid breeze of perpetual separation bites into it. By the time Emma joins Jefferson at the hat, Regina is fighting back tears for what seems like the thousandth time during this fortuitous furlough.

Needing one more hug for the road, she releases her grip on Mireya's arms and offers her own. "Come here and give me one last hug before I go." Mireya nods, then immediately falls into her, tucking her head right into the space between Regina's neck and shoulder. Winding one arm around a slim waist and threading the other into silky hair that smells of a fragrant forest, Regina pours her heart into the embrace. There is so much love for this amazing girl swelling up inside her that she feels fit to burst. "I love you, my beautiful miracle," she whispers into her daughter's ear as she sways them both gently.

Regina both hears and feels Mireya returning the sentiment, and hearing her daughter say those three all-important words back crack the dam enough so that her tears finally fall. Her grief is only magnified by the plaintive inflection with which the declaration was spoken. It breaks her heart to be putting Mireya – and herself – through this pain, but at the same time she's unspeakably grateful for having been given the chance to know the intelligent, compassionate young woman currently quaking in her arms. If only to have met Mireya, Regina will be forever indebted to Emma for having made so selfish a wish as to have never been the Savior.

Over Mireya's shoulder, she meets the steady gazes of the Queen and Red, who are standing hand-in-hand and observing the interaction with nearly as much emotion as Regina is currently besieged by. There is no disapproval whatsoever from them, and that touches her in a way she's not adequately equipped to handle. All this time, they've insisted that they only want her to be happy while taking pains to encourage her time and again to find Ruby and claim what is rightfully hers. Initially, Regina had tolerated their persistence out of a sense of respect for their kindness in harboring two fugitives, one of whom had nothing of significant value to offer them, but until now it doesn't completely register that every last word was sincere.

In that moment, all of her preconceptions about the Queen are forever proven to be woefully inaccurate. To be sure, the woman is still a force to be reckoned with and an enemy to be feared, but how can she doubt that there is a good heart beating inside the Queen's chest, one that might be every bit as reclaimed with a healthy, vibrant crimson as her own is? Time and again the evidence has been presented to her via her protection of two refugees she could so very easily have turned away and avoided much tension with the White Kingdom, through indulgences with Red and Mireya's time no one else likely has ever enjoyed, and in sage advice given without expectation of recompense. That hug outside the throne room served as the smoking gun with which Regina was convicted of projecting her own insecurities upon someone who only ever wanted to help her.

Armed with this knowledge, it becomes clear that her path of redemption was always laid out before her, and that even if she'd never been trapped in the land without magic and afforded nearly three decades to temper her fiery passions and learn how to love again, she would have eventually turned away from evil back toward good. Granted, that good may not look quite as heroic here as it does in Storybrooke, but there is no denying that the Queen has made a positive impact upon the citizenry she rules over and an even better one upon her family. And that gives Regina such aspirations for herself that she can hardly squash the urge to bawl like a blubbering infant. She does, though, if only to avoid ruining the good impression she wants to leave behind for however long this temporary world persists after she and Emma depart.

All too soon, the embrace with Mireya ends and Regina reluctantly joins Emma with Jefferson.

"Are we ready?" the Hatter asks, not to Regina or Emma, but to the Queen, who nods once and swallows thickly, clearly not trusting herself to speak. "Very well." And with that, he tosses the hat top down upon the stone floor. Almost immediately purple clouds of magic begin to swirl around it, obscuring the three figures gathered nearby from the rest of the onlookers.

As the Queen, Red, Mireya, and Ella fade from view, Emma latches on to Regina's hand and squeezes it until her knuckles pop, evidence of the Savior's turmoil that she has so admirably hidden up to the present. Knowing she hasn't but a few seconds left, Regina raises her free hand, wanting to cry out a last farewell were she physically able. She is, like the Queen, too choked with emotion to do much more than whimper as the Wish World disappears, or rather they disappear from the Wish World. Emma repeats the gesture, and it is returned in kind by the four individuals whose forms are now little more than vague outlines through the thickening smoke.

One final tear rolls down Regina's cheek right before everything goes black. As the hat swallows them up, Regina hears Red do what she, her counterpart, and Emma were so woefully unable to. And though she'll be proven wrong in less than two years time, Regina believes them to be the last words she will ever hear spoken by Red, Queen Consort of the realm of Misthaven.

"Goodbye! We love you both!"

The hat whines, then a great roar proceeds a brilliant burst of light. And just like that, they're gone.


	10. An Audacious Experiment

**Author's Note:** To the individual who inquired about the pronunciation of Mireya, I hear it as follows: myrrh(like the spice)-ay-yah

 **Chapter 10** \- An Audacious Experiment

The trip through the hat is uneventful up until Jefferson notices a brand new door. Encased directly next to the one they've just exited, it is nearly identical save appearing reversed, as if it had been crafted by sight through a mirror directed at the one leading to the Wish Realm. Regina recognizes it instantly as leading to the real version of the Enchanted Forest, which makes a lot of sense as the two worlds are mirrored in an odd sort of way.

"What the hell?" Jefferson's exclamation is only made more humorous by the way he comically stares at the door as if a calf upon a new gate. "That wasn't there two months ago."

"Because you did not yet exist at that time," Regina says, smirking in amusement at Jefferson's consternation. "When Emma here was granted her wish," she indicates toward the blonde with her head, "your world was created. I must admit, I wasn't expecting this. I'd thought your world would disappear, along with you, once Emma and I were back in Storybrooke. However, it appears the Genie's magic must also have linked your hat to the same hub _our_ Jefferson's connects to."

"If you say so," Jefferson 2.0 says, glowering at being essentially referred to as a month old phony. "But if the hubs are connected, doesn't that mean I'm just as real as him now?"

Regina's toothy grin falters as the implications that all-too-appropriate question pierces through the veil of her scientific fascination for the art of magic. The Wish Realm having a door in the hat hub does, indeed, mean that it is not merely a product of Emma's imagination or a temporarily existent realm bound to the same. She hadn't really stopped to consider that in her desperation to get home and then her entanglement with the family she'd inadvertently stumbled into.

Now, though, the implications slam into her with all the subtlety of a jackhammer. It's real. _Real, real, real._ As in the world she'd just sorrowfully departed truly exists within the same physical universe as the Earth, Neverland, Wonderland, the Enchanted Forest, Olympus, and a plethora of other worlds. It means those she's just left behind, the Queen and Red and Mireya, are flesh and blood that persist in spite of her belief they would be erased once she and Emma passed through the portal.

The hugs they gave each other, the conversations they engaged in, the laughs they'd shared...all of it was real. Her daughter is real...the daughter she's just left behind, who stole her heart only to return it filled to the brim with a hope Regina had thought to never have again. Mireya hadn't vanished into the ether like so much vapor. She was still back there in her world, probably missing Regina just as much as Regina missed her and mourning the loss of the profound connection they had established in so woefully brief a time together.

The very thought paralyzes Regina into inaction. She stands there staring at the Wish World door, crestfallen, tears streaming down her face, wanting to do nothing more than throw it back open and rush back through, if only for the chance to hold her daughter in her arms one more time. Knowing that Mireya was not merely part of a story like in _Heroes & Villains_ or some temporary wisp of magic that would puff out of existence once out of sight, but is solid and permanent _,_ has changed everything. Her perception of their undeniable bond and of their heartwrenching goodbye has been totally altered. She'd been banking on being allowed to grieve for what she's lost once she was back home. But how can she grieve when Mireya, and Red for that matter, are still alive?

Aching to the marrow of her bones for her girls, those two angels she'd fallen so helplessly in love with, she doesn't hear Emma's repeated calls for her attention. It's only a hand between her shoulder blades that wrenches her out of her grieved stupor.

"Are you okay?" When Emma comes around so that they are face to face, her concern is palpable. She blanches upon sight of Regina's tears. "You're crying. What's wrong?"

"I-I..." Regina inhales a breath, then lets it out slowly. It comes out shaky. Her hands tremble, and she rubs them together against the chill that's set in. "It's real, Emma."

Golden arched brows furrow so tightly they almost merge. "I don't understand. What's real?"

"The Wish World!" Regina gestures wildly as she speaks, her heart racing as she tries to process what she's just left behind. "Jefferson is right. If it's connected to the hat, that means it's real! Don't you see? That means Mireya is still where I left her, probably feeling as torn apart on the inside as I am. Because I just walked away from my child, Emma, and I may never see her again. She's _real_ , and I could have said so much more. Did so much more. I should have...I-I should have made sure she knows h-how much I love her..."

Emma shuffles closer, her expression strangely calm as she reaches out to rub at Regina's shoulders. "She knows, Regina. Believe me, she does. And don't think you're alone in feeling this way." She pauses to swallow thickly, then shudders out an uneasy breath as she releases Regina, her hands flopping back down uselessly at her waist. "Remember, you're not the only one who left a daughter behind."

Regina winces at her selfishness. She'd got so wrapped up in feeling sorry for herself that she'd forgotten all about what Emma has been asked to sacrifice.

"Oh, Emma. Ella..."

"Is safe and happy." Emma's eyes are gentle when she cuts in, and her tone projects far more confident optimism than Regina could ever hope to muster in this quagmire of a complicated situation. In that moment, the Savior looks more like Snow White than she ever has. "She has a mother who loves her, and another who now has a way to visit when she gets a spare minute or two for herself."

Regina blinks owlishly at Emma's intent to return to the Wish Realm via _their_ Jefferson's hat. Which is not only possible but a fantastic idea Regina wishes she'd had instead of nearly falling apart all over again.

"You're going to come back?" she asks, hesitant to express her own desire to do the same out of fear. Of what, she isn't sure. Perhaps, she thinks, it is because going back will mean she'll have to spend more time around Red and Mireya knowing they aren't hers, and then turn around and leave them all over again, no doubt breaking all of their hearts a second time.

"I promised her I would," Emma says, as if the matter were a foregone conclusion. It's clear Emma doesn't care how much pain she has to endure to keep Ella in her life, that a day or a week every a couple times a year is better than never. Regina wishes she was so brave. "I've been absent for her entire life, Regina," Emma goes on, supplying her motivation without Regina having asked. "How could I deny her the right to know me? A little less than a month just isn't enough. And since she's moving to the Queen's Palace after the wedding, I'll have ready access."

There is only one problem Regina can see with Emma having made such a promise. "But you didn't know that the Wish Realm would remain after we left. What if it had disappeared once we were in the hat room as I theorized?"

Emma smiles, patient in her assurance. "Then it would have been the most wonderful dream I've ever had. If only because I know now that my feelings likely weren't as one-sided as I'd thought."

The admission stuns Regina. "So you have feelings for Elsa, then? Or did..."

"The first," Emma quickly answers. "I love Elsa. From the moment we met, we connected on a level that I can't really describe. Mostly because of the whole born with magic we struggle to control, feeling like freaks, etc. But it was also more than that. Ya know? Or became more, rather. Somewhere during that whole unnecessary shitshow with Ingrid, I fell in love with her."

She trails off, grasping her forearms about her midsection, face a picture of long pent up anguish. "It... _hurt_ when she left, but I knew there was nothing I could do about it. She had a kingdom to look after and a sister she loved more than anything to take care of, both of which she would _never_ abandon. So I did like I always do, bottled up the pain and soldiered on. I'm lucky that I had my family to draw strength from, and Killian to distract me." Her expression sours even more. "And now I love him, too. But after finding out that Elsa and I may very well be True Love? I'd be lying to say the old flame for her hasn't flickered back to life. At the same time, I don't want to hurt Killian." She heaves a weary sigh. "I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place, and I don't know what to do."

Regina takes a second to let that info dump sink in before replying. This is something else she hasn't really stopped to consider with how consumed she's been by her own suddenly expanded family. Ella's very existence proves that Emma and Elsa had True Love in the Wish World. She recalls Emma's near mortifying outburst when she'd just met Ella, how she'd insisted that no special spells had been utilized in the girl's conception. Only True Love is powerful enough to create such life without requiring the direct guidance of a human mind for activation. Which means that Emma is pretty much in the same boat as Regina is, only she's the one entangled in a relationship whereas Regina is openly planning to subvert one.

In thinking of this, she recalls a conversation she'd had with the Queen regarding this very topic.

"I don't envy the position you've been put in," she says, after she's sorted out her thoughts and decided to share that information with Emma since she now knows there is pertinence. "All I can do is remind you of my own circumstance with Ruby and of what I learned in the Wish World from my counterpart. According to the Queen, there is more than one type of True Love, which I know to be true because I formed such a bond with Henry, which you also share. But that which exists between your...I suppose you could say, altered self...and Elsa in that realm, something powerful enough to _create_ life, is designed to draw two people together who are perfect matches for one another until they are inextricably and mutually ensnared. The Queen says that particular type involves Soul Mates who are fated to share True Love as well. She also told me a person cannot have such an intrinsic bond with more than one person at a time. So no matter how much I'd have poured my heart into Robin, we never could have connected like Ruby and I can because he was never meant to be a part of my destiny. And you of all people should know the pain that accompanies fighting against that mystical force."

Emma looks stricken at this information, and so conflicted and uncertain about what to do with it that Regina's heart goes out to her. She'd not meant to hurt her friend, but sometimes the truth does just that, and she knows that better than most it's best to have it all at once and then react accordingly than fumble about in the dark for specks of light by which to navigate.

"Look," she goes on, kindly as she can, "I know you love Hook. I don't doubt your feelings for him for a second. But I don't doubt Ruby's for Dorothy, either." The unspoken intent behind that last sentence hangs heavy between them.

Emma nods, saddened at the path Regina has so plainly laid out before her. And yet at the same time, she seems hopeful on Regina's behalf. "I guess that means you've made your choice, then."

"I have. I'm going to make my happy ending come true. Whatever it takes." If Regina were a good person, she would feel awful about that. But she is neither a good person or someone accustomed to feeling guilty for going after what she wants. Too long she's allowed the opinions of others to dictate her desires, and she's done with that. The Queen had insisted she had to learn to love herself if she wanted to be whole. For Regina, that means accepting the greedy, unethical, immoral aspects just as well as their counterbalances. Doing so begins today.

It's strange, but knowing that the Wish World is real has given her a sense of freedom that she thinks wouldn't be there otherwise. That the Queen and her decisions don't merely exist in her memory, that they were made in a tangible plane and that there were real consequences to them, means that Regina can make those very same decisions for herself. And maybe, just maybe, she'll be the beneficiary of the same – or at least passably similar – favorable consequences. It's high past time she takes back what was denied her by her mother and Rumple's devious plotting, by her own inability to resist the temptation of revenge, and by a certain verdant gnat's atrocious incompetence.

"And I can tell you one thing," she says, thinking about Tink and her piss poor fairy godmothering that had deprived Regina of a crucial choice. "After that, I'm going to hunt down that intellectually vacuous, Kiwi barbie doll of a fairy and wring her scrawny little neck!"

That draws a chuckle out of Emma. "That's my Regina. Glad to see you're back in rare form."

Regina squares her shoulders, smirking proudly. "Damn straight. Now let's go home. Destiny awaits us both!"

As Jefferson – who has lingered in the background during all of this – joins them, Emma gestures toward the door, eyeing Regina provocatively. "After you. Age before beauty and all that."

Regina bristles at the line she'd used on the Queen being turned on her. "Careful. This trip has put me back in touch with my dangerous side. I may just decide to let her out to play more often."

Emma's green eyes dance with excitement. "Oh, Regina, I'm looking forward to it. God knows life's been too dull lately."

Regina gives her friend a toothy grin. "Touché. Now, let's go home to our son."

"And to our happy endings, with whomever they may be."

Regina does not miss the implication. To herself, she thinks, _Atta girl, Swan. Go thaw out that Ice Queen!_ Aloud, though, she says, "Hear, hear!"

And with that, they stride through the door leading to Storybrooke with the alternate Jefferson in tow. He'll stay three days in Storybrooke, some of which is spent exchanging tricks of the trade with his counterpart. To satisfy the demands of the hat that the same number of people who pass through must return, when he leaves he escorts a refugee couple from the Land of Untold Stories who richly deserve a new beginning to the Wish World.

As for Emma, she strong arms Jefferson into making himself available to her at her every whim, and visits Ella as often as she's able considering her increasingly busy schedule. Regina will tag along to spend some time with Mireya whenever she can pull away from her own mounting responsibilities. Which isn't often. But it's enough to keep her firstborn daughter alive in her heart until the day she dies.

* * *

The month Regina and Emma passed in the Wish World is equivalent to only two days in Storybrooke. Try as she might, Regina will never be able to account for the differential, not that she's complaining. It's a relief to know she hasn't missed too much, or that her absence being so prolonged has not cost precious time solving the latest crises or created an unholy log jam of paperwork for the absent Mayor. She can't imagine which scenario would have been worse.

As it is, the first thing she does after returning home is to see Henry, who is with his grandparents at their loft. During their reunion, she gives her son no indication she has a gripe to settle with him. All she wants is to hug him again, which she does until he starts to squirm due to teenage discomfort, at which point she relinquishes her hold on him. After her hugs Emma every bit as awkwardly, the assembled adults talk a bit about the Wish World and what's gone on in Storybrooke, but only in the most oblique terms.

Upon noting an hour has already passed and she has much to accomplish before she can retire for the day, Regina releases Henry into Emma's custody for the rest of the afternoon and much of the evening. His suspicious look at the unusual allowance is assuaged by telling him she has critical business to attend to that can't wait. The Charmings put up a bit more resistance at her sudden departure so soon returned from an epic adventure, but she brushes them off with far less tact than she had her son. She has no time for pleasantries.

With Henry off to Emma's new house in that four-wheel death trap the blonde calls transportation, Regina heads off to conduct an audacious experiment. The aim is to independently verify what she's discovered concerning Ruby. Not that she doubts the Queen's – or Red's for that matter – assertions that their True Love is standard within every permutation of their existence. More like she needs to see visible proof of her own inclusion in that premise before she does anything so drastic as hopping the first portal to Oz to play the part of the shameless homewrecker. To that end, she magicks a hair brush from her house into her hand before visiting the Diner to procure the same object of Ruby's.

When Regina poses the respectfully stated request to Granny, the old woman stares at her for the longest, brows furrowed and those sharp blue eyes piercing into Regina's soul. And when she does deign to speak, her tone leaves little room for negotiation.

"What do you want Ruby's hairbrush for?"

Regina's lips spread into a thin line. Few enemies have ever intimidated her as the short but stout silver-haired werewolf who wields her crossbow with as deadly precision as her barbed tongue. Honestly, the Charmings should have just sent Granny after her when she was the Evil Queen. The cantankerous woman could probably have verbally berated her into surrendering.

"I learned something while I was in the Wish World," she says, fidgeting due to flaring nerves at Granny's imposing posture. "I need the brush to confirm that information." When Granny starts to inquire further, clearly unsatisfied with the explanation, Regina's resolve returns enough for her to the incoming inquisition with a raised hand and a tight jaw. "I'm sorry, Granny, I really can't say anything more. Not yet. But I promise I'll tell you as soon as I get what I need."

Granny announces her displeasure by crossing her arms over her chest as her eyes narrow into thin slits. She takes on a stance that clearly indicates she has both literally and metaphorically dug her heels in on this subject. "Sorry. Not good enough. Not where my granddaughter is concerned. She's just found a tiny slice of happiness after all these years and I won't have anyone messin' that up. Not even you, your Majesty."

Regina tenses, jaw clenching against the urge to make demands. Or threats. Neither of which would do her much good. She settles for a stiff but plaintive plea. "Granny, please just trust me. It's not like I'm asking for much. Just a plain old hairbrush. And I swear to you..." Granny cuts her off before she can even really start shoring up her case.

"I said no, Regina. If you want the brush so bad, you're gonna have to give me more than a vague promise that you mean well."

Frustration mounting, Regina counts backwards from ten, hoping her temper abates by the time she reaches one, or else she'll spout off at the mouth as she is wont to do and ruin any good will Granny has toward her.

 _Just once,_ she complains to her self as she tries to reign in her anger, _could things not have come easily for me? But no! Even procuring a simple hair brush has to be a convoluted ordeal equivalent to a root canal._

It's just not fair! Everything in her life, every lesson learned, every goal achieved, every desire attained, has come through either the shedding of blood or tears. She's emotionally eviscerated herself more times than she can count to gain purchase on slippery footholds that never ascend anywhere of value. She's known the gnawing of madness due to countless setbacks and has endured the unmatched misery of watching her enemies get everything they wanted with next to no effort whilst she had spilled out her energy, time, and passion as a savory sacrifice upon the altar of progress to gods without ears to hear or hearts with which to pity. No one held her when she cried herself sick at night like she'd done for Snow in spite of her resentment of the girl, all the while missing Daniel and feeling helplessly ensnared within in a loveless marriage to a man whose sole interests in her were as a surrogate mother to his insufferably bratty daughter and as a voiceless, powerless outlet in which to discharge his animal instincts without ever once bothering to provide her a reciprocal release.

When she rose to infamy as the Evil Queen, the moronic resistance fighters who aided and abetted their deposed Princess often cursed her to hell with their last breath.

" _No, thanks. I've already been there,_ " she'd say, sneering right back before apathetically snuffing out yet another life.

No one knew the road of suffering she'd trodden, paved with tainted dreams and untold heartache, feet bleeding, knees aching, back knotted, step-by-agonizing-step until she finally stumbled upon a fortuitous exit in a bottle. By virtue of pretending to love an urchin whose inability to keep a secret deprived her of her love, she'd earned her freedom. Through countless nights of that disgusting pig rutting away at her until he collapsed and left her burning inside from chafing every bit as psychological as it was physical, she'd earned her crown. After being so cruelly denied even the balm of revenge within the unwelcome borders of her homeland, she'd earned her new beginning in the Land Without Magic. And there, she'd turned right around and earned the right to be Henry's mother with each diaper changed, each injury she kissed better, every spoonful of mashed peas she cajoled him to eat with silly sounds and sillier faces, and with each night she spent sleeping in the floor next to his bed whenever he was sick. Nothing in her life has come without bone-rattling, teeth-grating toil, without exhausting her of all vitality in the pursuit of things most everyone else takes for granted.

Just once, she wants things to go her way like they seem to with the so-called heroes for whom fate apparently has an eternal erection. But as much as she is bitter and tired and feeling the urge to be obstinate because that will _never_ be her lot, this visit is far too important for her pride to derail it.

"Fine," she huffs, somewhat dejected at having to surrender even this much. But she does because she remembers what Red's kiss tastes like. And she remembers her promise to Mireya. That said, she is unwilling to discuss this further with so large an audience. Glancing about the mostly-packed Diner, she cuts Granny stern glare. "I'll tell you. But not where the rabble can overhear."

Granny gives her a single, terse nod. "Alright, let's go to my office in the back."

"After you," Regina says, gesturing for Granny to lead the way. She follows the elder Lucas into the kitchen and on into the little room tucked away in the rear of the building. Once both are inside, Granny all but slams the door shut, then whirls on Regina with all of her typically abrupt bluster. "We're alone. Now start talkin'."

Regina glances up at the ceiling, prevaricating at a loss for how exactly to explain what has happened to her over the past month. "I...I don't know where to start, honestly." She heaves a forlorn sigh.

"The beginning is usually the best place."

Regina rolls her eyes at the biting sarcasm, but accepts the suggestion all the same. As mechanically as she's able, she delivers a Cliff's Notes version of her trip to the Wish World, more detailed than that she'd related to the Charming's, from her being found by Mireya to discovering her alternate is married to Ruby's. When she's done some minutes later, Granny is wearing a peculiar smile, blue eyes twinkling with a secret.

"Why are you looking at me that way?" Regina asks, on edge at the strange reaction. "And why aren't you yelling at me that all of this is nonsense, that what is true in that world isn't necessarily true in ours? That Ruby is happy and I need to mind my own damn business? You certainly seemed to be of that opinion not five minutes ago..."

Granny smirks crookedly as she readjusts her glasses. "Maybe I changed my mind since then."

Regina crosses her arms, feeling defensive and skeptical at the neck-breaking shift in attitude. "Why?"

Granny frowns. "Are you always so suspicious?" She pauses, then ruefully shakes her head as if already knowing the answer. "Ya know what, don't answer that. If you really wanna know, it's because I always thought you'd be the one she finally made a move on. Not some random hussy she's known all of five damn minutes."

The answer sideswipes Regina with such force she falters on suddenly weakened knees. "Wha-what?"

"Oh, come on. I'm supposed to believe you didn't notice how she made moon eyes at you for three decades? 'Cause damn was it painfully obvious. I'm tellin' ya, that girl was so far gone she woulda ate crackers off your ass if you'd asked her to."

Granny has never been one to mince words, but that colorful description has Regina grimacing. And blushing just a little bit at the unbidden images produced. "Jesus, Granny..."

"Only she never did anything about it," Granny plows forward, evidently uncaring what Regina thinks of her language. "And that despite my best attempts to get her to stop being such a – well, pardon my French – pussy, and go after what she wanted." Regina is less shocked by Granny's second broach of social etiquette than the revelation that Ruby had harbored a legitimate crush on her during the curse. And what's more, Granny had encouraged her to act on it. In her wildest dreams should couldn't have imagined either being true. "For that matter," Granny then says, eyeing Regina critically, "you weren't any better about it." When Regina's eyes flash, she quickly adds, "And don't you dare try to convince me you weren't interested, either! For God's sake woman! I caught you ogling her legs more times than I care to recount."

Regina blushes to the roots of her hair. There is no denying she'd wanted a taste of Storybrooke's finest pair of legs...and everything else they were attached to. "Well, I...I..." she sighs, then rubs at her eyes, suddenly weary. "I admit the attraction was there, but I wasn't ready to do anything about it. I think you know why."

Granny tilts her head wolfishly, understanding shining in her piercing blue eyes. "I do. Which is why I eventually let it go. Ruby projects invulnerability, but she has a big heart that's crushed way too easily for likes of you if I'm being honest."

"Well, thanks for that," Regina grumbles as she averts her gaze, not liking how accurate an assessment that is of her temperament back then.

However much she wishes Granny was wrong, she is convinced that a relationship between her and Ruby within the Curse would have ended in disaster. If not during the course of it, then certainly afterward when Ruby regained her memories and inevitably started to hate her again, this time with the added indignity of being taken advantage of in her ignorance. Regina isn't sure what she would have done had the latter come to pass, but she knows it wouldn't have been pretty. Between her struggles with Emma over Henry and her heartbreak over losing Ruby – with whom she can say with absolute certainty, having met Red and the Queen, she would have fallen in love however much she tried not to – there is simply no telling how maniacal she would have become. Far more, in her estimation, than she'd been with only one of those factors driving her to extremes of desperation. Perhaps in that circumstance, redemption would have slipped forever beyond her grasp.

"Oh, hush and let me finish," Granny says, displeased with Regina's sulking. "I was also gonna say that was then. Now that I know you better and seen you with Henry, and how you've made friends with folk that have raised swords against you, I think I should have kept pushing her to talk to you about how she felt."

Regina looks up, surprised even though she shouldn't have been. Granny has been nothing but supportive of her lately, almost...well, grandmotherly. Whatever indirect feud existed between them is all but buried. It's different, though, for Granny to exhibit such trust where any potential affiliation with Ruby is concerned.

"You really think that?" she asks, sounding small in a way that irks her endlessly.

Granny shrugs. "I'm just as surprised as you are. I always thought you were just a heartless witch incapable of love, but I was wrong. Glad of it, too. I just wish Ruby'd stuck around a while longer to watch you become the woman standing before me today. A woman I'd be proud to have as a daughter-in-law."

"Granny...wow. I don't know what to say to that." And that's the truth. What else can she say when she's been given approval she hasn't asked for from a woman who has zero reason to trust, let alone respect, her. Affection for the elder werewolf swells in her heart, and it must spill over into her expression if Granny's response is any indication.

"That's alright. You don't have to say nothin'. I can tell you feel the same." Granny smiles, then opens the top right drawer and withdraws a hairbrush that has been stashed there, obviously Ruby's judging by the long, brunette strands still hung upon its bristles. "Here," she hands the brush to Regina, who accepts it with all the reverence due such an act of trust. "Go take that and find out what I already know. That you two belong together."

Regina takes the brush with trembling hands. "Thank you, Granny. I-this means so much to me. More than I can express. But if I can ask one question of you before I leave…?" Granny nods, so Regina goes on. "If you thought we belonged together, why didn't you say anything? To me, I mean. Maybe I could've made better choices. Maybe I could've stopped Ruby from going to Oz. Maybe..."

"Stop. Just stop, Regina. There's nothin' worth while to be found in maybes and what-ifs. And I didn't say anything because you wouldn't have listened." Which is true. Regina hangs her head in shame. But then Granny tips her chin with a weathered index finger. "That said," she says, eyes twinkling with sagacity, "As my granddaughter likes to point out, I'm an old school gal. I believe things always work out the way they're meant to in the long run. And I know Ruby supposedly gave her lady True Love's Kiss, but something about their relationship never sat right with me. I think you know why that is."

Regina nods, shame spreading into her chest, not just over her own stupidity, but for her son's foolish actions as the Author. "I believe Henry may have had something do with it."

"Ah." Granny breathes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly. She's clearly disappointed in Henry, but there's no anger, no outrage behind it. Just compassion. "Power like he's been given? I imagine it'd be hard to resist changing things in seemingly innocent ways to make good people happy."

Regina is quite astonished at the insight. Not many know Henry is the Author, and of those, how many would make the connection between what Regina has learned and the power of the Author's Pen? Few, if any. And yet Granny had done so instantly. How is it, she wonders, that she'd so long overlooked so vast a fount of wisdom? She makes a promise to herself not to be so obtuse in the future. Especially where Ruby is concerned. If she's going to win the heart of her True Love, she'll take all the help she can get.

"It is, and I intend to talk to him about it when I get home later," Regina says, confirming Granny's deduction. They share a look that tells Regina the elder matriarch knows almost as well as she does the insidious nature of power and how seductively it corrupts.

 _The wolf,_ she thinks, imagining what having that kind of bestial power lurking within might feel like. To have the strength to rip a human body apart limb-from-limb or shred it into mince meat with talon-like claws and razor-sharp teeth. To have superhuman senses always bombarding her with input that her human brain couldn't possibly interpret without overloading. To know the freedom of being wild and carefree, running through the forest underneath the full moon, without any responsibilities to drag her down from the neverending high of simply existing for each moment as if it were the last. Magic is intoxicating and addictive in its own way, but according to the Queen, it's incomparable to the pure, unadulterated sensations uniquely associated with being a werewolf. And that is something Regina wants so badly for herself that her veins sing a siren song beckoning for Ruby's bite.

An image flashes through her mind that sends pulses of desire straight to her nether regions. It's so strong, it reminds her of when she was back in the Wish World the morning after her horrific nightmare, only there's no mirror to reflect what she's seeing and she is not alone. The latter has her fighting against the pull, but before she can break the oncoming spell, she's yanked out of the present into a tantalizing glimpse of the future she will often draw upon for strength in the coming months.

 _She's sitting upon the little bench next to the bay window in her bedroom, stark naked with an equally disrobed Ruby straddling her left leg as she hovers_ _a hairsbreadth away. Propped up against the far end, spread wide open for her supernatural spouse of nearly three years, Regina watches with hooded lids and heaves staccato breaths as Ruby leans in, eyes burnished golden yellow, teeth bared so that wolfen fangs glint in the pale light of a full moon. Three fingers deep inside her having already worked her halfway toward a volcanic eruption, Ruby zeroes in on her neck, the veins of which are straining against her heated, sweat-slick skin. And then, when Regina gasps as deft fingers find her most sensitive spot, Ruby opens her mouth wide, and slowly descends toward her target._

 _The transformative bite of a werewolf is not exactly as portrayed in the movies, as it is neither a bacteria nor a virus that infects the victim so much as it is a magical transference delivered via the bloodstream. To be effective, the bite must be administered at the height of Wolf's Time into the most direct route to the brain and the heart, meaning it must simultaneously penetrate the carotid artery and jugular vein, and with surgical accuracy lest the victim exsanguinate. Because of the precision required, werewolves normally turn only the willing, and the bite is typically_ _performed ceremonially with careful supervision and stringent safeguards in place. But Regina wants, no needs, her induction to be private, so Henry is out of the house along with his baby sister at Emma and Elsa's, and there are no witnesses to assure customary protocol is followed. Thus, this moment is between her and her beloved alone, when they are locked in an intimate embrace, unified in body, mind, heart, and soul. And soon to be in magic._

 _Sharper than any scalpel, Ruby's fangs slide easily into the thin flesh of her neck, and the very instant they pierce through the intended vessels, briefly flooding Ruby's mouth with her life essence, the lambent inferno of creation itself flares behind her eyes, suffuses her cells, and sears into the deepest recesses of her psyche. Regina shouts a hoarse curse, tasting the tang of copper in her mouth. Ecstasy blinding her and euphoria inundating her senses until every last nerve ending is screaming manifold lamentations and praises and hallelujahs are ringing in her ears, she digs her nails into Ruby's lower back hard enough to provoke a heavy groan from her gorgeous wife, whose hips are rolling frantically against Regina's arousal-coated thigh. Her entire body quakes as her womanhood throbs with molten pleasure and furiously clenches from an orgasm so unbearable that she's unable to control her limbs or her hold on consciousness. Were it not for Ruby's strength keeping her from falling, she's pretty sure she would have poured like so much goo onto her recently polished hardwood floors._

 _How long she is lost in that incomparably sublime rapture she can't tell, only that when her wits return, Ruby's delightfully familiar weight is flush against her in all the right places as her long, dexterous tongue deliberately and gently laps at the puncture wounds on Regina's neck to seal them up. Something about the healing properties of werewolf saliva._

 _Regina sighs out with a satisfaction she couldn't describe in a hundred tomes worth of words. The rumbling chuckle Ruby responds with reverberates through her body into Regina's bliss-weakened frame..._

"Well, go easy on him," Granny then says, and Regina snaps out of her lustful trance, no time having passed and just before she embarrasses herself. All the same she's sure she's flushed, which is why Granny is eyeing her strangely. To the elder woman's credit, she ignores the heat in Regina's cheeks to continue making her point. "He's just a boy. He didn't mean to hurt anybody."

Regina shakes her head sadly, the effects of the vision ebbing as precipitously as it came on. As much as it hurts her that Henry has done something so foolish, she hurts worse for _him._ "Yet, he did just that, didn't he? Your own granddaughter, at that. Ruby believes she's with her True Love when she's not. She's going to be heartbroken to learn what's happened, and Henry will have to live with that."

"It's a tough lesson to be sure. Lucky for you he's a quick learner."

"I hope so, Granny, I hope so. For his sake."

As much as Regina would love to stay and chat with her unexpected advocate, there is another appointment she had arranged shortly before arriving at the Diner that demands her attention. She thanks Granny once again for her help, and they exchange a few more pleasantries before Regina departs for Gold's Pawn Shop where the next step in her experiment awaits. Rather than drive, she uses the expeditious method of transporting herself there via magic, landing just outside the door. The sole purpose of not arriving inside the shop is to make a grand entrance, which she does, and with all of her usual flair. After throwing the door open, she waltzes in pretty as she pleases, dangerous smile upon her face as she greets the two antagonistic occupants she'd summoned.

"Rumple. Blue. Thank you for coming."

Both of them look supremely uncomfortable being in such close proximity, not only to each other but to her, which amuses Regina to no end.

"You're welcome," Blue starts off, diplomatic as always in that cloying, phony way that never fails to incite Regina's loathing. "I was intrigued by your phone call. You said you'd like me to perform a spell regarding True Love?"

"Indeed," Regina says, keeping tight rein on her emotions as she holds out both brushes – hers and Ruby's – to Blue. "Take a single hair from each. I'd like you to confirm that the two individuals to whom they belong are, in fact, True Loves. Can you do that?"

"Well, yes, but..."

Regina doesn't let the deceptively conniving woman finish her request for more information. She trusts Blue about as much as she does Rumple, which is to say, not at all. Unless, that is, there is an angle Blue is working that aligns with Regina's ends, in which case the devious wasp can be depended upon to deliver. With this, though, she is unwilling to unveil any information beyond the bare minimum.

"Splendid!" Smiling as smugly as she can, she then turns to Rumple, leaving Blue spluttering indignantly. "As for you, I know you're able to utilize hairs to bottle True Love. You've done it once before. Do it again." She then holds the brushes out to her former mentor, who eyes her suspiciously.

"What's this about, Regina?" he asks, the gears of an all-too-perceptive mind visibly turning behind his impossibly dark eyes.

She squares her shoulders, shuttering off her expression. "None of your business."

A reptilian smile slides across Rumple's lips that reminds Regina of Hook's rather apt moniker for the Dark One. "Oh, but if you're requiring my expertise in the area of True Love, it most certainly is my business."

"Can't you just do this one thing for me without making a fuss?"

"Well, dearie, at the moment I'm not inclined to generosity where you're concerned. Not when your catastrophically stupid mistake has cost me a chance at reconciling with Belle."

Regina knows to whom he is referring. Obviously the Evil Queen has insinuated herself in the Dark One's life, probably playing up the old attraction they'd danced around in the old days when she was little more than a junkie hooked on the highly addictive substances he so readily supplied. Regina has outgrown her addictions, or at least the non-Evil half of her has.

"I'm sure my...unsavory counterpart didn't need much help in that department," she says, prodding with great risk at one of Rumple's sorest spots: his rocky relationship with his wife. When his face reddens as if he's about to explode with fury, she knows she's gone too far. She sighs, disappointed in herself for taking the bait. She'd not wanted to provoke him but just couldn't help herself. Theirs was a give and take sort of relationship, in more avenues than she cared to examine closely. "I'm sorry. That was out of line." The apology throws Rumple off completely. He stands there gaping at her as if she's grown another head. "I know. It's not like me to apologize without prompting, but...I need your help. Once, you told me that you cared for me beyond my being your pupil, that you regretted how things became so contentious between us. This is your chance to prove you meant it."

His eyes narrow skeptically, but that he doesn't outright deny her is a step in the right direction. "And what's in it for me?"

"A potentially expedient end to my ' _catastrophically stupid mistake_ '." It's the truth, just a roundabout version of if. Should her beliefs be confirmed, she'll have leapt the last hurdle on her way to acceptance, not only of her destiny, but of herself. She just needs to know that there is a light at the end of the tunnel before she leaves her feet and surrenders a tiny portion of her agency to the designs of fate.

His eyes sharpen into slits. "Explain."

"I can't do that. Not before I know for sure," Regina says, getting a little closer to desperation with her former mentor's continued hesitance. She'd been willing to concede to Granny's demands because she knew the honorable Widow Lucas wouldn't take advantage of the delicate information. Regina is under no such illusions with Rumplestiltskin, the man who'd painstakingly taught her everything she knows about gaining leverage and then exploiting it without mercy. "Please, Rumple. I won't beg, but I am asking with as much sincerity as I can muster. Please, do this for me."

For a moment she is sure he's about to tell her off, but then he deflates, his breath draining out of him along with his fight. "If it means that _viper_ will be dealt with sooner rather than later..." he says, and then plucks a hair from each comb before tearing away toward the back without further comment.

The surrender releases a ball of stress that had been forming in the pit of Regina's stomach. And while Rumple disappears behind the curtain separating the store from his private workshop, she relaxes marginally enough to neutrally observe Blue perform a spell upon the hairs pinched between her slim digits. Anxiety builds back up in Regina's chest as the Cardinal Fairy works, weaving her magic around the hairs with the practiced efficiency of an ancient being for whom casting spells is as natural as breathing. When the process reaches the stage where Blue's magic is swirling and dancing around her hands, the stress becomes so intolerable that Regina has to clamp her eyes shut for fear.

What if the Queen was wrong to insist True Love was universal? What if the kisses with Red were misleading because of the magic of the Wish Realm somehow confusing Regina for her elder alternate? What if, because of one ghastly mistake and three decades of wasted opportunities, Ruby isn't her True Love here anymore? That would mean everything she's gone through the past month was for naught, and Regina doesn't think she could survive that blow. Not so soon after Robin's death. And not after she's finally resurrected that part of her that died with Daniel: her hope.

For a moment, dread overcomes her, and all she can do is dwell on the possibility that the spells she has commissioned will fail. That the proof she is seeking will only serve as the impetus of yet another blow to her already precariously fragile heart. It becomes more difficult to breathe as each second flows into another like so much frigid molasses. The walls feel as if they are about to close in upon her, and Regina braces herself for the inevitable spear thrust through her chest by the cruel hand of fate.

But then she hears a sharp intake of breath, and her eyes gingerly crack open to a sight that not only instantly re-energizes her, but which sends a thrilling current of electricity arcing down her spine. The hairs Blue was once holding separately are now wound around one another of their own accord and are glowing the same translucent, sparkling amber that Emma's Savior magic does. Regina doesn't have to be a legendary fairy godmother to understand the significance.

A mere second later, Rumple reemerges, holding a jar containing two entwined hairs glowing with the same brilliant intensity as those Blue is so delicately holding. The double confirmation is all Regina needs to know that her entire life has changed forever.

"Now, tell me what this was about, Regina," Rumple says, and Regina won't remember until much later on that he wears his fascination as openly as his greed. "To whom do these hairs belong?"

Ecstatic at having the Queen's assertions proven once and for all, Regina ever-so-slightly lowers her defenses. "One of them is mine."

Rumple appears to have anticipated this revelation, though Regina notes that Blue is watching her intently as she answers, and that as she announces that one half of the True Love couple is her, the fairy's eyes nearly bulge out of her head.

"And the other?" Blue asks, nearly breathless in wonderment.

"That's for me to know and you to find out." It comes out less hostile than Regina had intended, but she doesn't bother to correct that regrettable lapse in disdain. There will be time later for her to express her animosity for Blue. And for Tinker Bell.

"Very well. Just remember we have a deal," Rumple says, studying her carefully. His curiosity is unsated, but it will just have to stay that way. As it is, she's already given these two world class manipulators quite enough ammunition.

"Yes, yes," she says, waving off his reminder. "I'm going to take care of her. You have my word."

Rumple draws up straighter then, one hand holding the jar up so that he can intently study the tiny hairs practically thrumming with power. He hardly even glances her way as he speaks. "Well, then, dearie...you know the way out. You can follow her, Mother Superior."

Regina takes the dismissal far better than Blue, not that she's concerned about Blue's feelings when she has seen tangible proof that she and Ruby are, indeed, True Loves. She's so overwhelmed that she forgets to instruct Rumple to destroy the hairs he'd bottled, which is fortunate since they will, one day in the not too distant future, come in handy. Not only will she use them as evidence with which she ultimately convinces Ruby that they are meant to be together, but then later on, she will permit Rumple to use them so that magic can be restored to Storybrooke – a necessity not only for their defense against enemies from other realms but to keep Storybrooke segregated from the outside world – after the imp's even more twisted mother shows up in town and casts yet another Curse.

Head swimming with possibility, and with anticipation for the future, Regina makes her way home, where another unpleasant confrontation awaits.


	11. The Beginning in the End

**Chapter 11** \- The Beginning in the End

Henry is nervously pacing the living room when Regina arrives home. She's surprised to find him there before six, the agreed upon time Emma would drop him off before heading to an equally uncomfortable conversation of her own with the pirate. The fear plainly visible on their son's countenance leads her to assume Emma has let slip additional tidbits of the life altering things they learned in the Wish World that enabled him to make the same inferences she had in regards to his misguided meddling. If so, he already knew what was coming.

 _What is it about Charmings and their inability to keep secrets?_ She asks herself, wondering if there will ever be a time she can confide in one of them without them spilling their guts to the nearest available friend or family member. _Probably not_ , she surmises, finding herself more amused than annoyed. She blames the galling breach of good sense on the bubbling brook of elation named Ruby she's been floating down since leaving Gold's Pawn Shop.

Mentally preparing herself for the confrontation, Regina brushes a hand down her blouse, then clears her throat to announce her arrival. Henry skids to a stop, eyes widening anxiously at the sight of her. Simmering disappointment and anger at him surges to the fore, overtaking her airy happiness. She tries reigning it in since she isn't even certain he's done what she suspects, but her attempts are woefully deficient judging by her son's trepidatious wince.

"Hey, Mom," he says, ducking his head in that boyishly endearing way that bought him far too many reprieves over the years.

Regina's responding smile is faint; his behavior all but screams to her of his culpability interfering in Ruby's life. Still, her heart swells with love for the boy who stole her heart some fourteen years ago and has never since surrendered it. Needing to be close to him, she moves forward and pulls him into a hug that he does not resist.

"Hi, sweetheart," she murmurs into his hair. "How was your visit with Emma?"

"Good," he says, shrugging as he pulls away. "Mostly. She was a little weird and kept changing the subject when I mentioned Hook or asked for details about what happened to you guys."

Regina soothingly rubs the space between Henry's shoulder blades, her mind flitting back to the conversation she'd had with Emma in the Hat's Portal Hub. She'd said she didn't envy Emma's position, and that was the God's honest truth. Granted, her own road forward with Ruby was fraught with risk, both to her own heart and to Ruby's, but at least she wasn't being pulled in two different directions.

Ruby would be, though, and for that Regina felt an undercurrent of regret. It was awful for Emma to know no matter what she chose she was going to hurt someone, and Ruby was going to put in the very same position. That Regina is ninety-nine percent certain what the outcome will be in both cases doesn't help matters, either. Both women are prone to carrying around boulder-sized helpings of guilt over things beyond their control, which means Regina, being unequally but deeply invested in both, will need to provide all the support and encouragement she can to them. That is, if the two stubborn knot-heads will allow her allow her. Of the two, Emma seems more likely to accept her offerings as whatever her choice, she will still be Regina's friend. Ruby, on the other hand...well, Regina supposes it all depends on how Ruby takes the news. Hopefully well, because Regina has had enough heartache for a lifetime over the past month.

"You're going to have to be patient with her, Henry," she says, still smoothing circles over her son's back. "She has a lot to think about because of what we learned in the Wish World. As do I. And on that note, why don't we sit. There's something we need to discuss."

She guides them over the couch, sparing her son a kiss to the temple as they fall in side-by-side. Once seated, she grasps Henry's hand and takes a shaky breath as she contemplates how best to approach this delicate subject. How, exactly, does one go about accusing their own son of abusing a frightening power with the capability of robbing people of their agency? It's especially vexing to consider that Henry, of all people, would do such a thing after he'd seen what Isaac Heller's unchecked hubris cost. He'd sworn to never, ever use his power to his own ends. And yet the evidence, circumstantial as it is, points to him having done just that.

Her heartache over this is only compounded by her being absolutely convinced Henry was operating under the absolute best of intentions. But the road to hell is paved with those, isn't it? Something Henry's grandmother – upon whose behalf she surmises Henry had acted – should well know.

"Is something wrong?" Henry cautiously inquires when she doesn't speak for too long, the silence clearly making him uncomfortable.

"That depends," she says, careful not to sound accusatory. However disappointed she is in her son, she doesn't want to ever again show him the side of her most resembling her mother. Even though she's as sure as she can be of what's he's done, she has to give him the benefit of the doubt. Guilty or not, he's her son. To ease his anxiety, she sweeps her fingers gently through the tendrils of brown hair falling over his forehead. "Henry...you know I love you, right?"

"Of course I do, Mom." He speaks with utter certainty, which blooms a wonderful sensation of affection in her heart that makes her want to forget he'd ever done anything wrong, and just take him in her arms and hold him for as long as she could.

As much Regina wants to dismiss his breach of the trust placed in him as insignificant, she cannot. Not when it has cost her _personally_. And not when it has potentially set Ruby up for unnecessary sorrow.

Resolve to confront the issue head on reemerging, Regina squares her shoulders and braces herself. "I'm going to ask you a question then, and I want you to remember that when you answer. Even if it hurts, even if it's embarrassing, you are my son and I will always, _always_ love you. So, please, tell me the truth."

Henry nods, swallowing thickly. His voice is a little hoarse when he replies. "Mom, you're kinda scaring me here..."

"Don't be scared, sweetheart." She gives his hand a tight squeeze. "I can't promise I'm not going to get upset, but I _can_ promise that I won't overreact. Just be honest with me, and we will get through this together. Alright?"

Henry nods again as he nervously rubs at his jeans with his free hand. "Okay, Mom. What is it you want to know?"

"As you know," Regina says, "while Emma and I were in the Wish Realm, we encountered my doppelganger and learned some shocking things. One of those things pertained to my True Love."

"Whoa, you saw Robin? What was he like there? Did you talk to him?" Henry's exuberance confounds Regina, as she'd assumed Emma told him about Mireya and Red, thus his nervousness. Internally, she strikes out the mental note to strangle a certain blonde and instead reward her for taking more after her reliable father than her secret-sieve of a mother.

"No, honey," she tells her son, "I'm not talking about Robin."

A look of pure confusion descends over Henry's visage. "I don't understand. I thought Robin was your True Love. Tinker Bell's fairy dust lead you to him."

"Yes, it did. But unbeknownst to me, or to her, she made a very bad mistake." Regina pauses, but when Henry appears ready to start a round of twenty questions, most of which she can already predict, she cuts in, "Before you ask anything else, I now know that to be an indisputable fact. Not only was my alternate self to her _actual_ True Love, who most definitely was not Robin Hood, but I have since independently confirmed this to be accurate for myself upon arriving home. That's what I've been out doing this afternoon."

Henry sinks into the cushions of the couch, dumbfounded. "Oh. Wow. Who was she married to then?"

"Before I tell you, I'm going to ask you my question, because the two are related." She pauses again to gauge his readiness. When he quirks his head to the side inquisitively, she knows the time for prevarication is over. She takes a steadying breath. "While we were in the Underworld saving Hook, did you by chance write a happy ending for someone in your book?"

"Yeah, I did," Henry says, nodding absently before he suddenly goes stock still. Horror floods his eyes and darkens his features. "Oh. Oh, no! Mom... _Ruby_?"

Regina grimaces, a jumble of emotions roiling inside her gut that range from hurt for how devastated Henry is to her own despair that her fears have been confirmed. Her own son is responsible for prolonging her separation from destiny by God knows how long, and that is a lemon-flavored, abrasive-coated pill she is loathe to swallow. It goes down every bit as bitterly as she'd expected.

"Yes, son," she says, not bothering to conceal her anguish, both at Henry's actions and those of the bush-league fairy who had so clumsily knocked down of the initial domino that set in motion the spectacular train wreck that was her life to the present. "I couldn't have known it all those years ago, but Tinker Bell lead me to the wrong Hood. Robin was never my True Love. Ruby is."

It hits Henry in earnest, then, as to the consequences of his seemingly innocent gesture. He careens forward, elbows on his knees, looking almost as green as his aunt Zelena used to be. "Oh, God. I think I'm gonna be sick."

Sympathy for her son overwhelms any sense of righteous indignation due to her. Instead of the teenager he is, Henry is her Little Prince again, having just broken yet another priceless knick-knack and on the verge of tears, not just because he'd done something wrong, but because he knew how much his mother valued what he had just inadvertently destroyed.

"Breathe," she says, rubbing his back up and down the length as he heaves out gulping gasps. Her ministrations have a noticeable effect, as his breathing slowly returns to normal. "Breathe, Henry. That's it. Calm down. Remember what I said? I'm not going to flip out." Determined to keep that promise, she keeps on until Henry is sitting upright again, looking far more composed. "Better?" He nods. "Now, I know this is hard, but I need to hear the truth from you now, directly. Did you use the power of the Pen to write Ruby a happy ending of your own devising?"

"Yeah. I did." He hangs his head with profound shame that sinks into his posture. Shoulder's drawn, back hunched, he's a picture of misery that hurts Regina's maternal heart. "I'm so sorry. It's just, our family needed something good with all that was going on with Hook and Robin dying, and I didn't want to risk writing something for one of us. You know, just in case it went wrong." He winces when Regina gasps. "I know that sounds bad, but I also knew that Ruby being happy would make Grandma happy, and she wasn't in town, so...I guess I didn't think I would have to face the consequences."

"Oh, Henry." Regina's eyes swim with tears. She'd thought his motivations purely innocent, but his confession says otherwise. Sure, he'd wanted to give Ruby a happy ending to cheer up his grandmother, but he'd also been cognizant that it meant Ruby would be in Oz, far away from the repercussions of his actions should they prove disastrous. Which Regina now knows they inevitably will.

Had the wrong person been entrusted with the Author's Pen? At the time, she'd been so certain no one was more fit for the job than her son. He was, after all, the Truest Believer, the boy who accepted the impossible when no one else would, and who fought for justice and goodness against his own mother without losing sight of his moral compass. This one indiscretion has thrown all of that into question, and if Regina is being honest with herself, it has her reeling. She'll have to keep a close eye on Henry for the foreseeable future, especially when he's in one of his writing fits.

A choked sob tears from Henry's throat as he gazes at her, eyes enormous and full of so much guilt that she could recreate the Pyramids at Giza were she to shape it into stones. "I didn't know, Mom," he says miserably. "If I had..."

"I know, son," she interrupts, holding his eyes. "But I shouldn't have to tell you just how wrong that was. Not only to write someone a happy ending they weren't intended for, but to so blithely play with Ruby's life like that. What if something went awry? What if your choice lead not only to her unhappiness, but to her getting _hurt_? Henry, you made her fall in love with a practical stranger! What if Dorothy hadn't been a nice and trustworthy person?" When he ducks his gaze shamefully, she leans forward to tip his chin up. This is too important, and she needs him to be present and accountable. "Henry, Ruby loves you! Before the Curse broke, she gave you free milkshakes every time we ate dinner at the Diner. And after, she bought you comic books and watched after you like you were her own. For God's sake! This..." Regina trails off to sigh out her frustration and hurt. "When she finds out what happened, she'll be _gutted_."

"I'm so sorry, Mom," Henry laments, tears shimmering at his lids. "I-I know I messed up. But I swear I'll never do it again."

"I'm sure you won't," she says sharply. "All the same I'm going to have to insist you turn the Pen over to me for a while."

"For how long?" he asks, withering further in on himself as if she's denying him some essential part of himself. Which, perhaps she is, but he needs to learn this lesson. His responsibilities are too vital for him to ever again commit such an appalling transgression.

"Until I trust you to do the right thing," she says, tone grave enough to broker no argument. "And until I'm sure you understand that sometimes means doing nothing at all."

The exceedingly severe grounding lasts for nearly six months _after_ she's returned to Storybrooke with Ruby in tow. For the first few few days she's back, Henry mopes about the house, sullen most of the time and grief-stricken the rest – the latter especially when Ruby is around, which is quite often since they were able to sort their feelings out and take the first tentative steps toward a relationship in Arendelle while Emma did the same with Elsa. Eventually Henry comes out of his shell, mostly thanks to Ruby, who refuses to hold a grudge when she has every right to.

The breakup with Dorothy hadn't been pretty, so much so that even Regina felt sorry for the woman who had stood in the way of her destiny with Ruby for nearly three months. Or at least she did until the night following Ruby calling off the engagement. Ruby doesn't know it – and won't until Dorothy shamefully confesses some years later – but as Regina was sleeping, she'd startled awake to a knife at her throat and murderous blue eyes passing sentence upon her for a crime she didn't commit. The woman had honestly believed Regina cast some sort of spell over Ruby to extinguish her love. Not one to react well to being threatened, Regina fought back. During the scuffle, Dorothy got in a lucky swipe that caught Regina's side. After that, she stopped holding back and quite literally flung her attacker about her chambers with magic until she was subdued.

When Dorothy came to and realized what she'd done, she apologized profusely, as might be expected, including wringing hands and earnest remorse. Regina, though, was not feeling particularly generous. She leveraged the situation to force Dorothy's hand in letting Ruby make her own choices from there on out, otherwise Ruby would find out what she'd done and likely never speak to her again. With no other alternative, the woman conceded defeat. There were no problems between them after that.

Ruby being a saintly woman, who possesses far more grace and mercy than that self-proclaimed bastion of purity Mother Superior, forgives Dorothy's momentary lapse of self-control without making the woman do too much grovelling. And she will prove every bit as capable of seeing past Henry's to find the good in it.

"Stop beating yourself up, kiddo," Ruby tells Henry one day as the three of them are eating lunch together at the Diner. She'd noticed Henry sulking, hardly enjoying his burger because he was too busy feeling sorry for himself in Ruby's presence. When he looks up, hopeful for the first time in weeks, she gives him a compassionate smile. "I might not have been brave enough to give my heart to your Mom if you hadn't pushed me with Dorothy first."

"Really?" he asks, looking hesitant to accept the gift of absolution being so generously offered.

Ruby nods, reaching out for his hand over the table, and when Henry takes it, her smile turns incandescent. "Really. I...didn't know I felt that way about girls. Ya know? I guess you could say Dorothy introduced me to that part of myself. And it's not like it was a bad experience for me. I was happy enough back in Oz. But being here with you guys..." she glances at Regina, green eyes gleaming with pure, untempered affection, before returning to Henry with a happy sigh. "I'm happier than I've ever been. Happier than I ever dreamed I could be. And for that, I'll be eternally grateful to you."

Regina swallows thickly to keep from crying at how relieved Henry looks, and at how much love there is, for both her and her son, radiating from Ruby's every pore. So much love that it almost hurts to gaze upon it. And it only grows more vibrant and luminous with each passing day.

After that little inspirational moment of bonding, Henry's artistic snafu is all but forgotten. He goes back to being the Author shortly thereafter, and the three of them – one shared meal, raucous bout of laughter, marathon movie night, rousing discussion about current events or politics, and competitive session of card or board or video games at a time – become a family. In time, Regina is able to echo Ruby's sentiments, that no dream could ever rival the reality with which she has been so undeservedly blessed.

She understands then why it was so easy for Ruby to forgive Henry, because to feel like this? Well, she could forgive just about anything.

* * *

Regina doesn't plan the eventful confrontation that ultimately resolves the self-inflicted quandary of the Evil Queen. It just sort of happens. Serendipity, she supposes later on, or perhaps another instance of fate's invisible hand sweeping through her life; only this time for her benefit. Whatever the cause, she isn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

On an otherwise mundane Thursday not long after her return from the Wish World, she's sitting in her office, reading a poorly organized report on damage to the harbor from a recent storm. While she'd been rescuing Emma from a life of frilly dresses and traipsing through fields of flowers as if she were some Fairy Tale version of Laura Ingles, nearly half the boats docked in and around the bay received substantial damage, as did the main pier serving larger vessels such as Hook's infamous brig, _The Jolly Roger._ She's nearly halfway through the document when her door bursts open and her Majesty comes waltzing in all of her flamboyant glory.

"Hello, hello!" the Evil Queen trills, serpentine smile painted on her glossy lips. "Sorry to interrupt, but I simply must congratulate you."

Regina calmly places down the report and the pen she'd been twirling between her fingers. Brow raised, she shoots back, "Whatever for?"

"I've just had a chat with our _beloved_ step-daughter," says the embodiment of Regina's every negative aspect. "According to her, we have a True Love I was unaware of. How exciting!"

While the news shouldn't surprise Regina, in her fury she slams her report down on her desk hard enough that papers go flying. She'd known reading Snow in was an egregious error the moment she recognized that glint in Snow's eyes hinting she was already planning Regina and Ruby's wedding. That she actually _will_ plan their wedding in a little over a year is of no consequence at present.

"Dammit! Can't that brat keep one _bloody_ secret?" Regina has noticed she's using that word more often of late. Bloody. Probably because she's spending too much time with her sister after Red's tale of Wish World Zelena's woeful suffering and the abiding love for Regina that gave Zelena the strength to endure such deplorable abuse. Learning that gave Regina new appreciation for her sibling she might never have attained otherwise. Yet another fringe benefit to her unplanned trip.

The Queen rolls her eyes in disgust at the mention of Snow's tragic tendency to overshare. "Of course not. She'd find a way to tattle even if her lips were sewn shut. But that's beside the point." After dismissing the topic of Snow with a fluttery wave of her hand, she meanders over to the desk, then perches primly on the edge so that her legs are crossed and her torso leans slightly toward Regina. "Who is it?" she inquires, eyes alight with insatiable curiosity. "I simply must know! I only hope he's not some burly hunk like the dearly departed thief. I've always preferred lean, athletic types. Stamina is an important attribute for a lover to possess, don't you think?"

Regina ignores the suggestive comment and it's accompanying expression meant to provoke her to rage, which in turn might prompt her to make her own slip of the tongue. Centering her thoughts, she settles back into her chair, smug smile stretching across her lips.

"I won't be telling you any time soon. And if Snow knows what's good for her, she won't either!"

The Evil Queen makes a frustrated noise at her refusal. "Oh, don't be that way! Surely I deserve to know. I am, after all, _you_. Therefore your True Love is mine as well."

Regina steeples her hands in front of her pursed lips. "I suppose you have a point."

The concession, however minor, has her Majesty baring her pearly whites. "See, that wasn't so hard to admit. Now, was it? So tell me." She leans closer with a conspiratorial look, as if proximity will entice Regina to share the secret identity of their True Love. "Who is it? It can't be that delicious Mr. Hyde since he is tragically deceased, but perhaps it's some other handsome fellow from the Land of Untold Stories?"

Regina smiles herself at the woefully incorrect assumptions. "For one, it isn't anyone from there. And secondly, wrong gender."

"Really?" Brown eyes bulge dramatically as the Queen rears back in astonishment. "Our True Love is a woman?"

"It is really that awful an idea?" Regina asks, offended partially because the reaction hits a nerve. If she hadn't seen with her own eyes the fruit of the Queen's union with Red – namely Mireya – her disbelief would surely have been just as profound as her Evil half's.

It isn't that Regina hadn't ever entertained attractions to women so much as it was a lingering hindrance instilled into her by her mother. Cora had believed, and stated many times in no uncertain terms, that homosexuality was a degeneracy which threatened to degrade the essential fabric of civilization. There was no room in the woman's heart for tolerance of alternative lifestyles in general, even less within her employ. Once she'd had one of the maids horsewhipped because she'd been caught in the bed of a visiting female dignitary, and the punishment wasn't administered due to the girl trespassing social boundaries, either. Had the dignitary not been protected by her monarch's vast reach, she, too, would have been flogged. As it was, the dignitary was sent packing straightaway behind a rider carrying a letter of condemnation to her monarch – which incidentally resulted in her exile – while the maid was left tied to the post overnight as an example against such behavior from other servants.

 _If mother did that to a maid_ , Regina had thought as she stared in horror at the woman's grotesquely mauled back, _what would she do to me?_ She would find out soon enough. And while Regina was spared physical scars, the mental ones incurred explained a great deal as to why she'd never entertained her attraction to members of her own sex. One member in particular with a bold red streak in her rich earthen locks.

"No," the Evil Queen says, shaking her head as if the idea of being branded a bigot is truly disgusting. "Not at all, I just..."

Regina fills in the blanks when other half trails off, undoubtedly remembering the same event Regina is. "Never considered it be an option after all the lectures how perverse a lifestyle it is? Not surprising after watching mother have a woman whipped half-to death, only to turn around six months later and lock me in the cellar for a month without food while daily attempting to magically ' _beat the queer out_ ' of me. Well, us."

The Evil Queen averts her gaze, lips pursed and expression wounded. "Who would've thought one little kiss with a scullery maid could make her so angry?"

Regina hums her agreement. "There were a great many things that made mother angry. Most of them accounting for the way I turned out."

Queenie quirks a dismissive brow at Regina's condemnatory tone. "How's that? Powerful? Wealthy?"

"Alone." Regina's curt answer shuts her counterpart up rather abruptly, and she is surprised to see tears filling the woman's eyes right along with renewed animus. "Listen," she says, holding her hands up to forestall a verbal attack which might very well precipitate a physical one, "I don't know about you, but I'm tired of fighting. Especially with myself."

"What do you suggest we do to remedy that?" the Queen asks, still visibly irate.

Regina smiles mysteriously, with enough tenderness to immediately disarm the Evil Queen's simmering anger. "I'm going to do what I should have a long time ago," she says. "Forgive myself. Accept myself." She pauses to catch the woman's eyes. "And Love myself."

And then before her severed half can react or even make a noise of protest, Regina pulls a page out of the playbook of her Wish World self. Without warning, she yanks the Queen to her with magic, and never one to be outdone, ups her game to plant a kiss square upon the lips of the part of herself she'd so quickly carved out in a futile attempt to achieve a redemption she can never earn.

It's been too long in coming, but she's finally realized that forgiveness and atonement are things that must be _given_ and not taken, which runs antithetical to everything she was taught from youth, that one must practice an aggressive, unrepentant form of _carpe diem_ if one is to get ahead in the world. That philosophy of greedy conquest is what landed her mother heartless and unfulfilled, with only regrets to accompany her to the Underworld, and is what turned Regina herself into a loathsome creature that far outstripped the monstrosities who birthed her. Penance was something she couldn't win in battle, purchase with extravagant gifts, appropriate by fiat, or violently wrest from those unwilling to give it. It had to be freely presented to her, already unwrapped, by those she'd wronged. And most of those, all of them who matter anyways, have done just that.

So she pours her heart into the otherwise chaste kiss, letting go of all the self-hatred she'd too long borne, and embraces the miraculous prize bestowed upon her by her friends and family. By Belle, who calls herself Regina's friend in spite of her being so grossly mistreatment. By Snow and David, who, contrary to how she'd once defamed them, have become her stalwart champions. By Robin, whose gentility, strength, and honor were an inspiration, and whose love made her realize she was ready to move on from the ghost of Daniel that had held her hostage for decades. By Emma, who somehow turned a bitter rivalry into the truest friendship Regina has ever known and has stood by her side through hell _and_ high water. By Zelena, who reminded her how important family is, and that mercy, forgiveness, and redemption are two-way streets. By Henry, who taught her how to feel again, who has forgiven her for her callousness toward before the Curse broke while at the same time asking for forgiveness for his in the messy aftermath. By Red, and Mireya, and the Queen, who showed her that it's okay for her to not be perfect, that who she is is not only lovable but beautiful and worthy of their unconditional love. And by countless others, some she cannot even identify by name, whose murderous glares at her when they pass her on the street have been replaced by encouraging smiles, whose trust in her has been stated both explicitly in the most unexpected places and implicitly through their actions in voting her back into office.

A lifetime of desperation to find love has been realized without her even really taking stock of it. Until now. It blooms in her chest, and the Queen, too shocked to fight at first, puts up brief, feeble resistance before she too gives way to the magic happening between them. Sparks fly in every direction, and the noise created as the energy building between them swells to unimaginable levels is deafening. When it at last reaches a wailing crescendo, it snaps, a mighty crash followed by blinding light.

Later, all Regina will remember happening next is a feeling of inexplicable wholeness warming her from the inside out followed by the inescapable sensation of falling. Everything after that is black until she comes to half an hour later, still in her office, with Emma hovering over her. The Savior is staring at her with amazement and a great deal of worry.

"Are you okay?" Emma asks, breathless and eyes as big as softballs. "How did you do it?"

"I'm fine," Regina replies around a groan as she levers herself upright with Emma's unrequested aid. "And how did I do what?"

"She's gone! The Evil Queen, I mean. Her Curse just broke. My Mom and Dad are both awake!"

"That's...that's wonderful news!" And Regina is a little surprised to find she means it where Snow is concerned.

Whatever happened when she rejoined with her Evil half, whatever magical process took place, it has – at least for the moment – erased what little contempt she'd held on to for her former step-daughter. She can no longer deny how integral a part of her life Snow is. Nor does she want to. Quite the opposite in fact. The brat has managed to worm her way into Regina's heart and taken up permanent residence, and Regina actually finds that comforting.

"I know, right?" Emma says, practically buoyant at having both of her parents back. "So, how did you do it?"

Regina blushes as her memory begins to return as to what preceded her bout of unconsciousness. "I...I got rid of her."

Emma scoffs as she rolls her eyes. "Obviously. But how?"

Regina shrugs, the corner of her lip quirking up. It is a rather humorous thought, after all. "I gave myself a kiss."

Emma just grins, eyes dancing as if she'd already come to that conclusion on her own. She offers her hand to Regina, who takes it and then is immediately tugged into a hearty hug. "I'm really proud of you," she says, and Regina nods, unable to speak for overwhelming gratitude.

Nice as the embrace feels, though, and nice as it is to know she has such a friend with whom she can so openly share affection, she permits it for as long as she can stand. Eventually she grows uncomfortable with the PDA and pulls away.

Clearing her throat, Regina gives Emma a meek smile. "Thank you, Emma."

Emma returns a cheeky grin, then gives Regina's shoulder a friendly bump with her own. "You're welcome. Now, what are you gonna do about the rest?"

"The rest?" Regina asks, brow arched in confusion.

"You know, Ruby...True Love..." Emma trails off, then begins acting out starry-eyed romance, complete with air smooches and self-hugs.

"Ah." Regina chuckles at the blonde's antics, then gives Emma a conspiratorial wink. "You'll see soon enough if you meet me at the pier tomorrow night."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Emma says. Ever the Savior, she keeps her promise.

* * *

Standing at the pier, the cold nipping at their noses, Regina gazes out over the gentle waves as Emma lingers at her side. She'd chosen this location because of how easy it is to think so close to the ocean. There is something about the briny air that clears her mind and soothes her nerves, allowing her to focus in on her problems to work through them for solutions. Or to simply stargaze for a while without the distractions of the city to dull the serene beauty of a starry night. Out here, she can see how appealing the life of a pirate might be, to float upon the waves, a canopy of diamonds for a blanket and lapping of waves against the hull to lull her to sleep each night. Were she not so terrible fond of the dry land, she might have been tempted that direction after Daniel died instead of submitting to her mother to play the long game of retribution.

Speaking of pirates, the Jolly Roger is anchored not fifty yards away, standing sentinel over the harbor as an enduring symbol that books cannot be judged by their covers. However little affection Regina has for Killian Jones, he is not the womanizing murderer she'd once categorized him as. He's been good to Emma. In some way, even good _for_ Emma. She just hopes that continues to be true should the Savior have, for once in her life, chosen her heart over her duty to follow Regina's example in going after what she wants.

"So..." Emma's breathy voice is nearly drowned out by the ambiance of tide rolling in, but Regina has a lot of practice picking it up over the din of ambient interference. "I know we just got back and all but..." she cranes her head in Regina's direction, eyes gentle in the pale yellow tones of the lights rimming the harbor, "I assume us meeting here all secretive means you're still determined to go after Ruby?"

Regina glances over. "Has Henry spoken to you yet?" He was supposed to have done just that before Regina left for Oz, as he'd neglected since her return to inform his birth mother of his colossal breach of responsibility.

Emma sighs. "Yeah, he told me what he did. Said you were upset but were trying to hide it for his sake."

Regina nods. "I didn't want him to think I blamed him for my misery. Or that I was angry at him for trying to do something nice. His heart was in the right place, he just..."

"Leapt before he looked?"

"Precisely."

Silence settles between them as Regina turns to peer out over the water. It's a calm night and the stars canvassing the sky with glitter paint an equally enthralling portrait of a million diamonds twinkling upon the sea. The moon is waxing, and it's paleness reminds her of Ruby's skin. Her fingers itch with an irrational urge to touch flesh she knows to run abnormally hot, flesh that had been offered up as if on buffet to her for nearly thirty years.

She could've had it all. Could've had Ruby _and_ Henry, and experienced the joys of being both a wife and a mother. All she'd had to do was reach out and grasp it. According to Granny, Ruby was hers for the taking. But she'd been too self-absorbed and too much of a coward to do anything beyond leering as subtly as she could, which wasn't very if what Granny said is true.

And yet, as abysmally and repeatedly as she'd failed during the Curse, fate has graciously provided her with another chance. She intends to not squander it. There is no illusion of an easy road before her. Ruby will likely resist the truth as vociferously, or even more so, than she had. Even with the proof Regina plans to bring along with her, Ruby will likely require quite a bit of patient persuasion to accept reality. And then there is the obstacle of Dorothy to consider. It's unlikely, as unarguably wonderful and highly desirable as Ruby is, the woman will be willing to step aside even for the sake of righting the wrongful assignment of a True Love that rightfully belongs to Regina instead of her.

None of this phases Regina, though, nor will she allow anything to stand in the way of what is hers by birthright. Destiny had deemed Ruby her perfect match, her soul mate, the only person who can truly accept her and love her for all of her, and that is something so infinitely valuable that Regina will fight for it until her dying breath.

"So?"

Emma's question startles Regina out of her thoughts. She glances over, brow furrowed. "So...what?"

"So, have your plans changed or what?"

Regina lets the question hang in the air as she turns back to survey the night sky. The moon is hanging heavily overhead, huge and nearly full, and not for the first time since stepping out of Jefferson's hat, her thoughts turn back to her True Love. She wonders what Ruby is doing at that moment, if she's bathing in the light of whatever nocturnal celestial body Oz affords her; she wonders whether or not that object is adequate to sate the primal urges of the majestic creature Ruby carries around inside her body and her soul; and she wonders whether the woman currently warming her bed can satisfy her the way Regina knows _she_ can. Her heart aches and her very own beast rails at the thought of Dorothy Gale's hands – or any other body part – trespassing upon territory that belongs to her.

Regina loves her son, but she has never been more disappointed in him for abusing the power he'd been entrusted with by the Apprentice. In making his grandmother happy, he'd inadvertently pushed his mother's happy ending into another world altogether. Ruby was never supposed to share True Love's kiss with another woman, but the power of the Author's Pen cannot be resisted by those who hail from realms under its sway, and while Ruby likely thought she was happy, that she'd finally found her pack, found someone to love who loves her back with all of that unrestrained ferocity with which she does everything, it was all a mirage. Her life with Dorothy, of whatever quality, is little more than an oasis in the desert that only appears to be sating her thirst when in reality it is convincing a desperate soul not to fight against inevitable desiccation.

According to both Blue and Rumple, if Ruby stays with Dorothy, she will never realize her true potential, because no matter how much Dorothy cares, she can never appreciate or accept or respect or love Ruby the way she deserves. Their love is false, a narrative created with the stroke of a pen, and however well meaning that act was, it has forced two people together who are fundamentally incompatible. And Ruby will not be the only half of that relationship to suffer for it, for Dorothy as well has been deprived of meeting her True Love, whoever that may be (though Regina has her suspicions about that, which will ultimately be proven correct). Eventually if left to their devices, she too will begin to exhibit signs of emotional damage that may or may not be irreparable, as neither Rumple or Blue could predict whatever assuredly tragic end awaits Henry's unwitting victims.

What Regina _does_ know is that catastrophe will strike if she doesn't intervene. One thing about Ruby is that she never gives up on the people she loves, which means she will never walk away from Dorothy on her own, even if staying together is slowly and agonizingly scouring her immortal soul until she is left as numb to the joy as to the pain. Damn the woman and her unshakable loyalty!

There is no way in hell that Regina is going to let that happen. If she has to bite, scratch, and claw; if she has to break out every seduction tool in her prodigious kit; if she has to subvert the reputation of a good, noble, and heroic woman; if she has to beg on bended knee, she will. There is nothing she won't do to save her True Love from a fate even the most vile and irredeemable villain should be spared. And if it costs her own soul in the process? Well, that's a small price to pay to recapture that feeling of ecstasy and completion she'd felt when Red kissed her, and to know what it's like to be loved by Ruby Lucas.

Oz awaits, and though Regina cannot accurately predict the trials and complications that await her there, she knows what she has to do.

"No, Miss Swan, they have not," she says, brimming with conviction and determination as Emma's lips stretch into an approving grin. "Now that the Evil Queen has been dealt with, I'm going to do what I do best and go get what I want."

Emma claps her hands excitedly, then rubs them together. Her eyes gleam mischievously. "Now that's a plan I can approve of! When do we leave?"

Regina quirks a sable brow. "We?"

"Yes, we! Did you think I was gonna let you traipse off to another world after your True Love all on your own? After all we've been through together?"

"Well, as a matter of fact I did."

"Hell, naw! Ain't gonna happen, lady. I'm so gonna be there, right on the front row, to watch you sweep Ruby off her feet."

Regina shakes her head at Emma's optimism – so like her mother at times. "It won't be so easy as that."

Emma waves off the deflection. "I know that. So what? You'll have to do some fighting, maybe get your hands a little dirty. But all's fair in love and war, right?"

 _And yet in other ways not like Snow,_ Regina amends, then replies, "Don't let your mother hear you say that. She still believes True Love is respectable and honorable and pure, like in the Fairy Tales of this world. She wants that for you. She'd even say she wants that for me." The rebuttal from Emma is one Regina will never forget.

"Then she'd be wrong," says the Savior, resolutely confident in her opinion. "Nothing is wholly pure, Regina, and no one is totally honorable. I learned that by age ten. Love worth having needs to be bled for, needs to be excruciating so the bliss is that much more intense. Easy is for the feeble minded and weak of heart. You're neither of those."

The little speech bolsters Regina more than she can express. But at the same time, she remains reticent to accommodate Emma's charitable wish to tag along. If for no other reason than her own pride balks at needing anyone's help to sway the heart of her own True Love.

"By that logic," she says, "my strength should sustain me on this journey. I don't need you to hold my hand, Emma. I need to do this on my own. Ruby needs to know how far I'm willing to go for her, how long I'm willing to fight, and not because I'm being influenced by others, but because she's what I want, what I need, and what I desire."

Emma grasps her by the elbow, eyeing her intently. "And she will. Don't worry. I have it on good authority that girl's carried a torch for you longer than I've been alive." Which only confirms Granny's story and makes Regina feel even more wretched. "As for the other," Emma goes on, "well...I know you don't need my help. Maybe I just wanna go because it will make me happy to watch you finally get your happy ending."

Regina tucks her bottom lip between her teeth, feeling a little overwhelmed by that confession. She'd known logically that Emma was her friend, someone she could always count on to be in her corner, but it doesn't become tangible in her heart until that moment that their friendship is something special, something extraordinary. It's one thing to want to help because it's the right thing to do, or out of a sense of obligation over their friendship. But it's something completely different to know Emma would derive her own happiness from simply seeing Regina happy. That is a level of friendship she didn't know she could ever foster with another person, let alone the woman who'd once sworn to take her son away and take her down for her crimes in the process. It's a stark acknowledgment, and precious to Regina, that their relationship has evolved beyond mere friendship into the platonic equivalent of True Love. In fact, in that moment, as much appreciation and love for Emma as is pulsing within her heart, she believes beyond a shadow of a doubt that were Emma to be put under a sleeping curse, she could wake her with True Love's Kiss.

It's an incredible revelation, and one she will dip into time and again in Oz when reaching Ruby starts to seem impossible. Emma never, ever, lets her give up.

"Do you mean that?" she asks, unexpectedly bashful in the face of such an awesome declaration.

"You're my best friend, Regina," Emma says, cheeks turning red for a reason aside from the cold. "Killian's not the only one I'd march into hell for. So, you bet your cute little ass I meant it!"

Regina chuckles. "Well, it is my best... _ass_ et." Like the day before, Emma nudges at her shoulder with her own, and they fall into an amiable silence. For a bit, Regina contemplates how she's going to go about wooing Ruby. But inevitably, her thoughts turn to what will happen after that. Not only for her, but for this exquisite woman she is so privileged to call her best friend. "I could ask the same of you, you know."

"What's that?" Emma replies, still gazing out wistfully over the waters.

"What are you going to do about Elsa?"

Emma doesn't turn to face her, just continues staring, her eyes somewhere else far, far away. _Perhaps_ , Regina thinks, _in Arendelle_. "I'm not sure yet. I think..." Emma says, then after a brief pause amends, "no, I _know_ that I need to see her again. If what you were told is really true..."

"It is," Regina says with absolute assurance. She's got the proof back home on the nightstand beside her bed. She'd pilfered it from the Pawn Shop while Rumple was otherwise occupied trying unsuccessfully to persuade Belle he would never hurt their unborn son. A vow that will prove to be accurate when the Black Fairy abducts Gideon shortly after his birth. He doesn't notice the jar containing Regina and Ruby's entwined hairs is missing until after his pernicious mother's death.

" _If_ it is, I should know right?" Emma asks, sounding uncertain, conflicted in a way Regina knows all too well. "I should be able to tell she's the one. That's what I'm banking on anyway. As for Killian, as you know, I told him when we got back I'd be taking some time to myself in the near future. He wasn't happy about it, but he also didn't put up a fight. He said he'd honor my choice, and thus far he's kept his word."

Regina had been glad to hear Emma put a halt on her relationship with Hook. They'd been moving far too fast for her taste. And after what she'd seen in the Wish World, she knows how potentially disastrous that is. As for Elsa, while Emma may have her doubts about what the magical Queen of Arendelle really means to her, Regina doesn't. The Wish World showed them both who they were meant to be with, and if Emma is still having trouble with that? Well...Regina believes enough for them both.

"Any time frame for this journey?" she asks, hoping to prompt Emma into making the right decision by supporting her in her desire to visit Arendelle. The real one, that is.

"I didn't really specify when, but I was thinking..."

"Why, Emma!" Regina trills when Emma trails off suggestively, sporting a Cheshire grin. "I would be _delighted_ to accompany you. ' _I'm so gonna be there, on the front row, to watch you sweep Elsa off her feet_.' And as an added bonus, I should think Arendelle would make an excellent neutral location for Ruby and I to become...better acquainted. After I've won her heart, of course."

Emma's grin matches Regina's in intensity. "Of course. In that case." She extends her hand, eyes glimmering in the moonlight. "What do you say we take a nice long vacation and go make our dreams come true?"

Regina accepts Emma's hand, offering a firm shake along with a brisk nod. Her heart thrums with anticipation within her chest. "I'd say hell yes! Let's do it." So they do.

Riding the wake of reabsorbing her Evil half, Regina makes good on her promise to do whatever it takes to win Ruby's heart. Emma does the same, eventually settling down with Elsa after the Queen shocks everyone by abdicating in favor of her sister Anna and her brother-in-law Kristoff so that she and Emma can be together in Storybrooke. Or at least that's what Regina and Emma will tell their respective daughters when they ask to hear the story of how their Mommies met.

Which is why Regina finds herself here, seven years later, heart swelling to bursting with adoration as she and Ruby tuck in the little raven-haired girl with her face and Ruby's eyes who especially loves the story of Princess Emma and Queen Regina's Grand Adventure in the World of Wishes. Every night, she has to recite the version condensed and censored for the ears of innocent little girls. And every night, the tale ends the exact same way.

"And as every good story ends, my darling Mireya," she'll say, Ruby holding her hand as they gaze in unison at their perfect child with stars dancing in their eyes and unconditional love springing eternal within their hearts. She will feel so full of love in that moment that she can't imagine how she can withstand any more.

And yet every morning it will overflow anew, daily inspired by a True Love she almost lost forever and a child she thought she could never have. Life to her becomes one miracle after another, a fulfillment of the prophecy secreted away within the name of a young woman she'd once met in another world. A young woman she can't wait to meet again in about eighteen years, give or take.

United by bonds of love that are invisible and yet unbreakable in their solidity, all three Mills women will join in to pronounce the reverent benediction on yet another ordinary day of marvels.

" _They all lived happily ever after._ "

 **The End**


	12. Epilogue

**Author's Note** : Muahaha! Y'all thought it was over, but there is one last installment. That said, if you liked the way the story ended without it, feel free to ignore this. Otherwise, enjoy!

* * *

 **Epilogue**

At the fringes of the forest, Ruby clambers atop a small rock out cropping. Upon her perch, she gazes up at the harvest moon hanging stark and enormous, a pale orange sentinel in the northeastern skies. Everything is so clear out here so far from Storybrooke and the pollution of a rapidly modernizing town. She inhales deeply, allowing the crisp air to flood her lungs, then releases it slowly. Serene contentment penetrates down into her bones and settles in her marrow as she begins a cautionary survey of the area; she has to keep her family safe, after all.

No movement is detected within the field spanning as far as her keen eye can see. Blanketed in a fresh layer of snow, the innumerable crystals glimmer with rainbow brilliance due refraction from what pale light the moon affords. It's a glorious night, and peaceful. Ideal weather for the next to last Wolf's Time of the year.

For some time she loiters atop her unadorned granite throne, quietly contemplating the myriad blessings so graciously bestowed upon her since Regina's spectacular reentry into her life. The last thing Ruby had been expecting that autumn day was for the woman she'd pined for nearly three decades to magically poof herself and Emma Swan right into the throne room of the Royal Palace of Oz. As if she owned the place, Regina marched right up to Queen Ozma, introduced herself and her companion, and declared her intention to track down her True Love, whom she boldly claimed to reside in Ozma's castle. Ruby, being over the moon at not only seeing Regina again but Emma as well, immediately volunteered her help. She had no idea the entire thing was a ruse so that Regina could cozy up to her. Nor would she have cared one whit when the tiny lady with the larger than life personality was showering her with the lavish attention she'd so long, and in secret, craved.

It didn't register until weeks later that Regina's arrival instigated a steady decline in her previously solid relationship with Dorothy. No matter how fervently she labored to maintain the shine on their love, no matter how frantically she attempted to fan the flames of attraction that had once driven her to the Underworld itself in a reckless gambit to resurrect Dorothy from Zelena's curse, her efforts were to no avail. It was as if that blazing inferno was quenched by a sudden gale wind, which just happened to be scented with the intoxicating fragrance of apples and coconut and oh-so-tempting dark magic, smells she'd long associated with her former muse whom she soon discovered was not so former as she'd believed.

Sweet and earnest as Dorothy was – is, even – she simply couldn't compete with the gargantuan gravitational field Regina produced, which seemingly existed solely to lure Ruby into its inescapable web. There was always some intangible quality about Regina that held sway over Ruby's heart, and unidentifiable factor that appealed not only to her human side but to her wolf as well. With Regina daily in torturous proximity, that invisible force constantly beckoning for her to give in to their undeniable connection became increasingly impossible to ignore. Dorothy never really stood a chance. Not when Regina could, with a single smirk or touch or wink or deliberate sway of her hips, make Ruby feel things, want things, _need_ things that Dorothy never could. The battle was over before it really began, which only made Ruby feel all the more guilty for her sad ineptitude at resisting Regina's queenly charms.

Ruby tried, though. Oh, how she tried! Obstinate as she is by nature, she was reluctant to let go of Dorothy, especially when she'd fought so hard to get her. But how was she supposed to prevail against destiny? She'd already been half in love with Regina when she left Storybrooke to find her pack, and even though she wasn't ready to admit it, by the time she was shown the miraculous jar containing their magically bonded hairs, she was already right back there again. The was no use denying such indisputable proof. Tangled fast together, the hairs danced within the glass container to the energy of the cosmos, proclaiming for all to witness that she and Regina were quite literally born to love each other. The next day, Ozma, at Ruby's insistence, confirmed Regina's story about their innate connection via personally testing fresh samples of their hair. When the result was the same, it was all over but the crying.

And God, did Ruby cry. Buckets, really. She cried every night for a week at how horribly Dorothy was hurt, at how the impossibly strong woman had seemed to shrivel in upon herself upon realizing the end was at hand, that their relationship was doomed from the beginning. They'd been set up to fail, and had only been playing house, biding time until they inevitably fell to pieces because fate does not tolerate True Love couples being kept apart for longer than necessary. That she was able to salvage a friendship with her former lover was a miracle in and of itself, especially seeing as Dorothy could hardly look at her for years without tears springing up in her eyes. It was only after Dorothy discovered her own True Love that the longing glances ended and they were able to move past the heartbreak that hung like a pall over their every interaction for eighteen months.

Mostly, though, Ruby cried because that first kiss with Regina fixed something in her that she hadn't even known was broken. The entire time she spent in Oz she'd thought she had a handle on the self-recrimination and the self-loathing she'd once nearly drowned in after Peter's death. She'd convinced herself she'd moved on from the suffocating guilt of being a ravening beast who not only killed her first love but her own mother, too. In embracing her genetic condition and her surprisingly fluid sexuality, she let herself believe she had at last completed the torturous process of binding up the wounds left behind by cascading tragedies that began the moment she was born. She was sorely mistaken. Especially about the lycanthropy.

Were it not for Regina's unceasing encouragement, she would never have felt secure enough with her lupine half to experiment again. The path of unequivocal acceptance of the wolf Ruby started down upon her reunion with her mother was one she'd abandoned after Anita's demise. Sure, she'd retained control of the wolf, but since that day, she has refused to wholly succumb to the untamable instincts of the animal, instead preferring the civilized restraint unique to being human, even whilst walking upon on four legs. More than anything, she was scared of becoming her mother, a woman for whom nothing was off limits because she'd essentially gone feral. And not just that, but she didn't think her friends, Snow especially, could ever understand how it good it felt to turn loose, to just exist and feel and indulge to her heart's content without once contemplating the consequences. Dorothy, with her unshakable moral foundation, wouldn't have understood, either.

But Regina was right there with Ruby, delighting in her wolfen savagery every bit as much as her pup-like playfulness as she kept pace alongside, transmogrified via magic into a sleek black pantheress. They made quite a sight, the two of them, romping through the forests of Oz, slaughtering beasts to sate their hunger, terrorizing villagers for fun, and making a general ruckus that could be heard for miles in every direction. When that first Wolf's Time was over, Ozma, red-faced with indignation, had chastised them for their childish behavior only to lose steam when they could no longer contain their laughter. Two more such Wolf Time's passed before Ruby was finally unable to deny the truth anymore, that she'd never felt complete with Dorothy, never felt her lover could ever fully embrace the wolf and it's insatiable appetites. That, she'd realized, isn't what True Love should look like.

The night after that last tear through Oz's forests, Ruby found out why she'd only ever felt partially invested in Dorothy. When Regina dropped the bomb about their destiny along with conjuring up evidence to support her claim, the illusion of her happily ever after was forever shattered. The jar containing their hairs was a Pandora's Box, which once cracked opened could never be resealed and which wrought much destruction in the wake of its opening. But from the devastation came revelation. Free to entertain thoughts she'd buried when she turned her back on Storybrooke, she inevitably came to the conclusion that everything Regina was saying was logical, and that their bond was not the arbitrary decision of some supernatural force beyond the scope of human understanding. On the contrary, they were just _that_ perfectly suited to one another; two halves of one whole, Ruby thought, in the same way Snow was to Charming. And they'd been kept apart long enough.

Ultimately, it was coming to terms with how seamlessly compatible she was to Regina – and in every possible aspect from the physical to the magical – that enabled her to forgive herself for ruining Dorothy's life. Because how could they have ever worked when, unlike Ruby, Dorothy didn't struggle between dual aspects of her own nature? Dorothy was all human, and being from earth she couldn't even wield magic without the use of enchanted artifacts. Ruby could, though, and did after Regina taught her to harness the ancient energies that fueled her transformations. How, therefore, could someone so plainly confined to only one form possibly sympathize with what it's like once per month for her? The pain of having her insides rearranged and her bones reassembled is unimaginable unless experienced firsthand. And there was simply no way Dorothy could ever understand the compulsions produced by that primordial part of her brain that in humans has been tempered by evolution, but as the wolf is once again given precedence over her behavior.

But Regina? Regina gets it, and that without being an actual werewolf – well, for the first few years anyway; eventually Ruby reluctantly caves in to Regina's monthly requests to be turned. Most of Regina's friends, Emma being the notable exception, still think of her as just that. Just Regina. Even when referring to the Evil Queen, they assume that the tyrannical monarch is who Regina _used_ to be. That assumption is such a gross oversimplification that Ruby often wonders how they can claim to know and love Regina when they are so reductive concerning her personality. When Regina reabsorbed the Evil Queen, that facet of her character wasn't destroyed, nor was it merely assimilated into her mind, heart, and soul to merge with her more palatable traits, thereby creating some uncomfortable conglomeration that was everything at once. It isn't like that. Not at at all.

The Queen is a part of Regina in nearly the same way the wolf is Ruby. She is always there, always lingering in the background, prowling the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to slip free of the collar Regina has carefully buckled around the neck of that consuming darkness to segregate it from the constructive light she has painstakingly rediscovered. Regina knows the struggle of balancing her own opposing desires, knows the temptation of the beast and the weakness of the fleshly woman to resist those primal wants and needs. Regina gets Ruby, gets her like electricity gets magnetism, like the sun gets the moon, and that makes them so uniquely suited for another that it's a wonder it took them so long to see it. She supposes they'd blinded themselves to what was in front of them, that their mutual fear of trust precluded them from exposing to one another the delicate inner parts that are unbearably soft and fragile and so easily destroyed when mishandled.

Now that the blinders are off, though, Ruby is able to freely marvel at the harmonious partnership that sprung forth from their union. Sometimes it hurts to look at it's so beautiful, and those are the moments she realizes how close she came to missing out on something she wouldn't trade for anything in the universe. What if Regina hadn't severed herself in two? What if her evil half hadn't banished Emma to the Wish World and Regina reacted like she always does to run to the rescue? Would they have made their way to each other eventually? And if they did, what kind of shape would they both have been in? Those are questions with no answers – none that Ruby is comfortable considering anyway.

In the distance, to the west, a long, triumphant howl trumpets out into the brisk night air. Ruby's ears perk up, and she cranes her neck in the direction of the sound. A wolfish smile of recognition spreads across her lips at the report of an equally enthusiastic reply. Mireya and Ella are taking their thirteen year old daughter out for her first run, just as Ruby and Regina had done for their now grown daughter when she was the same age. Apparently Annika has nabbed her first rabbit. Ruby's heart swells with pride. She has to force herself not to climb down from her perch and break into a sprint toward her energetic and ambitious grandchild. As much as she would like to tackle her grandpup and bathe her face until she's squirming, she has other duties to attend to. Duties that she is all to happy to keep.

She turns back then and, after climbing down from the rock outcropping, makes her way to the den she built some three decades ago for her expanding family. Tucked into another, larger outcropping a few hundred meters away, it had immediately caught her eye as she was scouting for a place to claim as her own, a place apart from the local wolf pack where she could stay with Regina during Wolf's Time since her soulmate had joined the exclusive ranks of werewolves inhabiting Storybrooke. The snow crunches under her paws as she lopes toward her occasional home, and she nibbles at it as she goes, having always loved the taste of new snow.

Upon reaching her destination, she ducks inside and stops just within the entrance to take in the gorgeous sight of Regina and their second pup, Nadine, just turned of age like her niece. Nadine was a bit of an accident, but a happy one, seeing as neither of them should rightly have been able to conceive at their ages. But there is some strange interaction between their True Love, lycanthropy, and their innate magicks that will prolong their lives far beyond a typical human lifespan. It's not that they aren't getting older; they are, just at a rate that is borderline negligible. The only way she can tell either of them are day over forty-five is by their subtle laugh lines and the streaks of silver in Regina's hair.

Of course, the boon is not without it's downsides. It's been hard to watch their loved ones grow old as they have stayed relatively young. Were it not for the fact Mireya and Ella are equally afflicted, Ruby is pretty sure she might have gone mad by now. They've already buried so many. Villains just keep showing up, seemingly at regular intervals, meaning there have been protracted wars, pitched battles, and countless skirmishes in the decades since she came home from Oz. Granny was the first casualty, having passed five years after Mireya was born. Thankfully Gran went in her sleep peacefully. But Zelena died saving Dorothy's life when Mombi visited town nine years later. Their little girl, Selene, just turned twenty-one, and Robin, now thirty-three, is married with a kid of her own that Dorothy was not alive to see. She got herself killed being needlessly reckless in battle not long after Selene graduated high school. It had come as no surprise to Ruby. At the graduation, she'd seen how tired Dorothy was, and noticed that longing in her old friend's eyes that never went away after her True Love sacrificed herself to save her.

Belle and Rumple live on, and though Belle has aged well, she's been wearing her years evermore of late. What Rumple will do after her passing is anyone's guess. The man who had finally found his courage to give up power for love is cursed to an eternal life without the first person who ever saw the man inside the beast. Ruby hopes Gideon sticks close by. The once scrawny, bookish boy has grown into a strong young man of character, much like his mother, and he helps smooth out his Papa's rough edges. Ruby thinks there's a high chance he will stay since he is engaged to be married to Emma and Elsa's youngest.

Speaking of the Charming's, they all lived long, full lives. David and Snow went on to have two more children after Neal, Ruth and Lance, both of whom left Storybrooke for the world abroad. Sadly, David died of cancer six months ago. Snow, Ruby expects, will join him soon. Her oldest friend has been frequently muttering their standby line in her fitful sleep. " _I'll always find you, Charming._ " Honestly, Ruby cries just about every time she hears it spoken with such paradoxically anguished hope. As does Emma, who moved her mother in with her and Elsa after her father died.

Emma Swan, the once muscular bastion of feminine heroic virtue, has defied Father Time as well as she's able. She still works at the Station, mostly paper pushing now, but just as bossy and sassy as ever. Ruby reckons they'll have to wheel her out of that place feet first. That, or Elsa will have to work a little magic and freeze her out. Their True Love, Emma and Elsa's, isn't quite as woven into their magicks as Ruby and Regina's, but it has sustained them with strength and endurance beyond their years. Ruby is glad of it, too. Losing David, Snow, Emma, and Elsa in so short a span would have tested her mental and emotional fortitude to the limits. As it is, they are showing their age, both silver-haired and gracefully wrinkled, but still beautiful and totally devoted to each other. Regina often tells Ruby they need to do better about spending time with their closest friends, that they ought to go on more double dates like they used to when they were all young and energetic and head-over-heels in love.

Not that they aren't just in love now. Rather that the love has done a little maturing for everyone. Used to Ruby couldn't handle going more than two days without getting her wife's clothes off. And though they are still spry enough to make love for hours, weeks can pass these days before one or both of them are hit by the urge to engage in some bedroom gymnastics that don't necessarily take place in the bedroom. Come to think of it, that was how Nadine happened. When Wolf's Time rolled around that month it had been a week and five days, and when they both got home from work, their eyes met, and that magic that has always existed between them flared up white hot, and before an eye could blink they were at each other right there in the kitchen. Thankfully Henry was on yet another adventure – he has since slowed down some to enjoy his own teenage children with another version of Cinderella that Regina almost had a conniption over – while Mireya and Ella were celebrating their two year anniversary. Nine months later Ruby was screaming the vilest curses she'd picked up over the years from Emma at a smug Regina, who just held tight to her hand and kept reminding her it was her turn to experience the joys of labor since she'd already done it once and that was quite enough for her, thank you very much.

Nadine is a quiet, introverted kid, nothing like her rambunctious extroverted sister. And whereas Mireya had been climbing the walls half the night after her first outing as a wolf, Nadine all but collapsed the second they reached the den. Poor thing wore herself out. She'd cornered a rabbit and was just about to pounce when she got distracted by a deer prancing mockingly nearby. As any respectable wolf would, she tore off after the larger prize, but the deer had the advantages of age, stamina, and being accustomed to four legs. Nadine had made Ruby proud, though, and got in a good bite or two to the deer's hind legs before it escaped through a thick bit of underbrush. She hasn't told her daughter yet, but her older mother had also failed the first attempt at bringing down one of the swift animals that sometimes even gave Ruby a run for her money at her peak.

She amuses herself remembering how Regina had sulked for an hour afterward as she tucks herself against their daughter, sandwiching the smaller fuzzy form between the sizable heft of her parents. Once she's curled up along the length of her pup's back, she lays her head on her paws in the direction her mate. Fur dark as midnight with v-shaped patch of silver down her chest, Regina is perhaps the most handsome wolf Ruby has ever laid eyes on.

When Regina first turned, Ruby had stayed on two legs to help with the transition should the need arise, and she'd had been so awestruck that she just stood and stared until a wet nose nudged against the palm of her hand, an indication that Regina was fine and ready to play. The hours that followed were some of the funnest of her life. They'd ran, wrestled, hunted, and caroused with the local packs until they both passed out in utterly, deliriously joyful exhaustion. When they woke up, the sun was high above the horizon and they were human again, surrounded by at least a dozen normal wolves they'd relocated from the Enchanted Forest, some lazing about and some sunbathing but all patiently waiting for their magical kin to awaken. They'd had to indulge their four-legged friends with a few more hours of exuberant interaction before they ambled back into town to resume their regular schedules.

Upon glancing at Regina, Ruby finds her mate no longer fast asleep, but gazing back with lidded amber eyes tinged with tendrils of violet. Without prompting, Ruby shuffles forward until their noses are brushing. After rubbing them gently together, Regina huffs out a contented sigh and then her eyes slide shut once more.

 _If werewolves could cry_ , Ruby thinks, _I'd be a blubbering mess._ Only not just because of how happy she is, but because the moment is the literal fulfillment of a dream she'd once had. She'd dismissed it as mere fancy because she didn't know what she was at the time, and then had forgotten about it until that very moment. She can remember it so clearly now, though.

She was sixteen at the time and had the dream the night after a visit to the local village with Granny. Every month, they made the trip into town to restock on supplies and sell the wares Granny produced – such as the garments she darned or the crossbows and bolts she crafted – as well as firewood Ruby had chopped and the berries she'd foraged Granny didn't turn into preserves or pies. That particular visit was a memorable occasion because it was the only time in the village's history a monarch passed through. It just so happened to be the notorious Evil Queen.

Ruby can remember watching Regina step out of her carriage, legs wrapped in supple leather, bodice bedazzled with onyx gemstones, hair piled on top of her head in an intricate bun atop which rested one of her famously ostentatious hats. She can also remember how her breath caught in her lungs. How she'd stood gawking so obviously that the Queen noticed and ambled over.

"My, my, aren't you a pretty, young thing," the impossibly alluring woman said as she tipped Ruby's chin with a gloved index finger.

Ruby was too awestruck to do much more than stare like an unsophisticated oaf, which frankly she was at the time. Still is somewhat frankly, as all of Regina's class and elegance have only marginally translated into Ruby via marital osmosis. Back then, though, she'd been little more than a grubby peasant in rags next to the splendor of her Majesty the Queen. And yet Regina had seemed as unaffected by their disparate social statuses as she is today whilst slowly and heatedly perusing Ruby's blossoming figure and aesthetically pleasing face. She'd felt things under that dark, hooded gaze that she forgot about until Regina came to Oz and righted the world she hadn't even realized was upside down. If it weren't for one of Granny's friends appearing out of nowhere and breaking the spell being woven between them, Ruby is pretty certain Regina might have made a move, although she can never be totally sure because Regina doesn't remember the interaction at all.

In retrospect, it is so easy for her to see – by that interaction and the countless others between it and Oz – that Regina has been right all along, and that her own alternate in the Wish World, whom she has encountered a number of times over the years, wasn't lying about their bond being predestined. They were, she and Regina, written in the stars. Like Perseus and Andromeda, only without the Kraken and the whole Medusa thing – though they have met Pegasus and hang out with him in wolf form whenever he visits, which is cool as hell!

Anyway, the whole True Love thing is surreal and hard to grasp for someone that grew up as fundamentally ordinary as a girl could. Reconciling herself to the idea that some mystical energy had known how perfect they were going to be for each other and planned accordingly for their lives to intersect isn't easy even now. There was a time Ruby would have laughed such an assertion to scorn. But those days are gone, relegated forever dim in the rearview mirror as she traverses the happy ending presciently paved out for her in eons past. Whatever hand laid the cobblestones, be it god or kismet or whatever else the limited human brain can conjure, she's more thankful than she can ever express that hers lead to Regina. Their life together isn't without it's ups and downs, but every day is better than the last, and she's more in love today than she was yesterday. And the best part is, she doesn't think that trend is ever going to end.

And to her endless delight, it doesn't.


End file.
